


The Complex

by jamesbvck



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drinking, M/M, Neighbors AU, mention of drugs, neighbors to lovers, tiny bit of a slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:01:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23685805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamesbvck/pseuds/jamesbvck
Summary: Steve did the same and settled into the stool. There was silence. Bucky took the hair tie off his wrist and with little effort twisted his hair and tied it into a low bun. It softened his features when he did that. He played with a cardboard coaster between his fingers, and Steve swore that maybe Bucky was humming to the muffled music that was playing overheard. Honestly? Bucky was nice. Was that the right word? It’d be good enough for now. If anything, he was nice to look at.Bucky raised his glass to his lips. “Maybe I'll let you ride shotgun if you’re lucky.”Steve felt warm. His chest, his cheeks, his hands. Surely Bucky was simply offhandedly joking, screwing around. Perhaps, maybe a touch of flirting. “I can only hope I’d be so lucky.”
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 6
Kudos: 65





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello! welcome to my first published stucky fic. my writing skills are a little dusty, but i hope this story finds you well. something to take your mind off of quarantine 2020. i hope everyone is staying well and safe.
> 
> thank you to mccall for helping me suss out this fic and looking through it. i couldn't have gotten through it without you. and thank you to chelsea for always helping me get out of a rut ❤

August was hot.

Not that it’s never not hot in the middle of the summer in New York. It seemed like this summer had brought in a record for one of the worst heat waves that the eastern seaboard had felt. Not much seemed to suffice the scorching sun unless you planted yourself in the water of Manhattan Beach or cooled off in a local pool that happened to be overcrowded by school kids. The heat was thick and the old fan rattling in the corner of the sunlight bedroom was doing its best to try and salvage some form of cold air. Between the noise of the fan and the cars zooming by outside, Bucky was managing to somehow sleep through the inconveniences, that is until there was a far too obnoxious beeping coming from out his windows. 

Perhaps this sound was in his dream, and it was a good thought until it didn’t go away. Slowly his eyes opened, blinking to regain proper vision from darkness. The beeping was very much real and very much close to his apartment. He rolled from his stomach to his back and pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes.

**_Beep, beep, beep, beep…_ **

That was not what the alarm of his phone sounded like. This sound was more piercing and goddamn annoying for eight in the morning on a Monday. Peeling the bedsheet off his skin, Bucky climbed out of bed, pulling on a pair of black basketball shorts and a plain white tank top. Exiting his bedroom, there was a waft of humidity from the living room. God, couldn’t the landlord fix their fucking air conditioning? The blinds for the balcony were wide open. Hunched over in his purple sweatpants stood Clint peering out the window with a bowl of crunchy cereal in hand, looking too amused for his own good. 

Bucky squinted at the sunny room, shuffling his way towards the fridge to take a swig of juice from the carton before putting it back. Clint took another noisy bite of cereal, mumbling something incoherent to Bucky then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Bucky wandered over to the sliding doors and opened them, peering over the edge of the balcony. Across the complex was a moving truck that read _California Sunny Movers_. Out of the building came Bucky’s neighbour Sam, grinning like an idiot as he embraced someone that was being blocked by the truck. Looking back, Clint shrugged and drank the sugary milk from the bowl before trotting away to the kitchen. 

One balcony over lived Natasha and Peggy. Bucky was no stranger to climb over the rail from his place to theirs (which he did) and opened their sliding door, wandering into the apartment as if it were his own. Closing the door behind him, Bucky crossed the identical layout and found himself in the kitchen, swiping an apple out of the fruit bowl in the middle of the dining table. 

“Don’t you have food in your own place?”

Bucky turned on his heel, munching on the large bite of apple he took, shrugging one shoulder. The redhead in front of him rolled her eyes, waving the hairbrush in her hand in a menacing manner. “What, you goin’ to beat me with a brush?”

“I should,” she replied.  
  
“You won’t.” 

“I’m waiting for the perfect moment.” She turned back around, running the brush through her shoulder length hair as she ventured back to the bathroom down the small hallway. 

Bucky continued on with his apple and mindlessly wandered back to the window seeing Sam take a few boxes from the back of the truck onto a dolley. Bucky took another bite of the fruit, folding his arm across his chest. “You see that movin’ truck out there?” 

“Yeah, Sam said that his friend was coming in today from Los Angeles.” Natasha called from the bathroom. “His name’s Steve.”

“Who?”

He swore he could hear Nat rolling her eyes. “Sam’s friend. You need to stop hanging around Clint so much.”

The corner of Bucky’s lip twitched upward. He backed away from the window and made his way to Natasha’s. Leaning against the doorway, he watched her expertly apply eyeliner while also managing to send a death glare to him. He took another big crunchy bite and smiled at her. 

“Where’s Carter?”

“Peggy went to tutor some middle schoolers at the library. She’ll probably be there all day.” Nat switched to a tube of mascara. Bucky nodded, tilting his head with a disinterested tug of his lips. “What’s that face for?”

He shrugged, “I don’t think you need all that make up.”

Natasha barked a laugh, zipping up her small make up bag and spun around to him. “Are you trying to butter me up?”

“Is it working?” He cocked a brow. 

Natasha stood only a few inches shorter than Bucky, but she was petite and strong and could take on anyone that stood in her way with a blink of an eye. Yet the way she was looking up at him with her with her fierce green eyes that had some spark to them made him think his playful flirting was actually working.

“Absolutely not.” She patted his shoulder before brushing past him to enter her bedroom. The door half closed as she changed, leaving Bucky in the hallway up against the wall. “Don’t you have work today?”

“I start at ten.” He said, finishing his morning snack. “Think if I call in sick the boss will notice?” Bucky tossed the apple core into the closets trash bin.

Natasha reemerged in black leggings and a plain red top. “I don’t know. Will your father notice you’re not in for your shift, _James_?” 

“We could both call in sick… Go to the beach.”

She shook her head, gathering things into a bag and popped some bread into the toaster. “I can’t call in again this summer. Some people don’t have the privilege of working for their parents and getting to do whatever the hell they want.” 

Bucky mustered up his best pout, his big blue eyes looking wishful. “Come on, _Natalia_ …”

“Don’t,” Natasha pointed at him as if she was his mother and he was stealing a cookie out of the jar. “I’m going to work, and you better get your ass to work. I’ll call and check.” Her tones were sharp and she meant business. Sometimes that’s what Bucky needed; he needed a kick in the ass to get himself back on track for a little while until something or someone came along and he’d fall into certain antics that had become a habit. 

Natasha opened her front door and motioned for Bucky to exit first. She locked her open and knocked on his door twice. “I’ll see you later.”

“Sure,” he replied, pushing the door open when he heard Clint unlock the door. 

The thing was, Natasha really would call the shop and his dad to make sure he was there. So rather than skipping out on some cash and taking a lazy man’s day, he hopped into the shower and scrubbed his body of the gross sweat and fourth day dirty hair. He pulled on a clean shirt and some pants, scooping his shaggy earthy brown hair into a bun and grabbed his keys, wallet and phone.

“Wow,” Clint clapped from the couch, a stupid childish grin on his face. “He’s going to work!”

“Shut up,” Bucky muttered as he shoved his feet into his boots. 

“Proud of you!”

The door opened and slammed shut. Bucky jogged his way down the stairs, avoiding a near collision with Maria who lived on the floor below them. It wasn’t as humid as most days yet the sun on his skin felt like a volcano had erupted. Long story short: Bucky was not a summer boy. The _California Sunny Movers_ truck was still parked out front of the opposite apartment building. It poked at Bucky’s curiosity a little bit but not enough for him to go over and snoop around. Sam came out of the door, waving in his direction.

“Hey Buck,” he greeted and heaved another cardboard box. 

“Sam.” Bucky nodded back, catching a glimpse of blonde hair.

“I got it, Sam.” Blonde hair said, voice deep but had something chipper to it. “I got that other one too.”

“Alright, alright.” Sam sent a wave in Bucky’s direction. Bucky being Bucky half waved, darting his eyes away from Sam and his friend the moment he saw his head pop out from behind the trailer of the truck. 

Bucky dug into the front pocket of his jeans and slipped out a pack of cigarettes and clamped one between his lips. Inhale, exhale, nicotine coursing through his veins and dizzying his mind. _Hi ho, hi ho it's off to work Bucky goes._  
  
  


More often than not, when Bucky got stuck on something he would see through it til the end of the line. Whether it was a friendly competitive game of pool at the bar, or helping his little sister with homework, he would make sure everything was done thoroughly. Today it happened to be a car’s engine that wouldn’t stop coughing every time he went to fix it. It was an old car, a 1970 Camaro he managed to sweet talk into purchasing out of a long time customer of his father’s auto shop. He got it for cheap considering that the engine was junk and Bucky was getting more and more frustrated by the minute he worked on it.

His hands were completely covered with oil and dirt that also went up to near his elbows. The door to the garage swung open with a thud as it hit the wall. Bucky ducked out from under the hood, grabbing a rag off the work bench nearby.

“Verdict?”

“I think it’s shot. Might have to order a whole new engine, or at least take the whole thing apart and find replacements.” There was a sigh in his tone, more annoyed that he couldn’t figure out the exact cause of the problem. “The entire car shakes when I start it up.”

“Don’t go blowin’ up my shop.”

Bucky half smiled. “I’ll try not to, dad.”

George Barnes stood the same height as his son. The only features they shared was their nose and their hands, but George always said Bucky looked like his grandfather as well. Then again, if you put him, sister and his mother in the same room they were all definitely related. George handed his son a bottle of cold water to which Bucky nearly drank the entire thing in under thirty seconds. 

“Your friend called this afternoon to make sure you were here.” Bucky rolled his eyes, turning away to toss the bottle into the recycling bin. “The red haired one.”

“Yeah I figured that’s who you meant.” 

George nodded. “Are you seeing her again?”

“No,” Bucky replied simply. God, that was a whole conversation he didn’t even want to start nor finish. It didn’t even matter anymore. “Just good friends.”

Bucky swore he heard a rough shallow laugh from his dad. George was a bit old school and didn’t really see a male and female just being ‘good friends’ as Bucky had put it. That book was read through, twice, and now officially closed and hung up on a dusty shelf. 

“I turned off the Open sign, don’t forget to turn off the lights and lock the doors on your way out.” George said. “Tomorrow?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah tomorrow.”

George yanked opened the door only to have Clint barrelling in and nearly knocking over the elder Barnes. “George!” Clint was boisterous and beaming. “It’s a scorcher out there! On the downlow, I saw some hot babes down the road working a car wash job.”

“Clint!”

Clint through his hands up in the air. “Listen, I’m just sayin’ what I saw. Have a good night, George!”

All George could do was laugh, shaking his head as he was exiting the auto shop. Bucky, on the other hand, was far less amused while Clint strolled up to him. “Do you know how to use your phone? I texted you like twice.”

Bucky grabbed his phone off the workbench seeing a double digit what was more than two texts from Clint. “I think we need to have another discussion about boundaries, Barton.”

“Look, we’re going out to have drinks with Sam’s new friend and we’re already late. He’s a cool dude, Steve, man, yeah a cool dude.” Clint was rambling., still beaming and Bucky had an inkling that Clint dipped into a stash before marching his way over here. “By the way, your parents have been divorced for six years. Man to man, I’m helping your dad out.”

“Not with fucking teenagers, Clint.”

“They were at least in college.”

“Fucking Christ, let’s _go_.”

A quick pit stop at the apartment for Bucky to wash up had Clint antsy bouncing around the apartment as if he were a toddler. Clint had two moods: the first one being a lazy ass who usually ate all of Bucky’s cereal and lived on the couch, the second being the fun, happy go lucky accident prone bastard that annoyed the shit out of Bucky. At the end of the day, Clint had been in Bucky’s life for ten years and that meant something to him. 

“Sweetheart, you didn’t have to dress up for me.” Clint sniggered. Bucky smoothed out the wrinkles of his shirt and shrugged on a jean jacket, all while giving Clint the most unamused expression he could do. “Ah, a stone cold killer!”

The bar down the road was one they often frequented, and where Clint worked most night shifts. Bucky was pretty sure if he hadn’t agreed to share an apartment with his friend that Clint would be living on the couch in the back room of the bar. He followed behind Clint who swung open the door and crossed through the frame into the rustic bar. There was a low grade of customers, most there for an early dinner but Xander’s was never one to be completely empty in the summer. Xander’s had three sections: bar, tables and booths, and then the pool table area that had a small section for darts. Bucky often frequented the pool tables, busting college kids for their left over rent money or to score some free drinks. 

The seating area had some tables occupied with patrons. A long table near the exposed brick wall had Natasha, Sam, Peggy and who Bucky was guessing to be Sam’s friend Steve. Clint was already across the room before Bucky had a moment to think, and Clint snatched up the free chair next to Nat. Bucky moved along the floorboards to the seating area and relaxed his shoulders; for whatever reason he felt anxious. 

“Hey Carter, saved a spot for me?” Bucky glanced down at Peggy. Her brunette hair was in soft waves framing her face elegantly that matched the red on her lips. 

Peggy tilted her head back to look up at him with an indifferent expression. “Apparently I didn’t have a choice.”

A short chuckle rumbled in Bucky’s throat as he took the open chair next to her and sat down. Peggy was closer to Natasha and Sam than she was with Bucky and Clint, and to be fair, it was probably for the best. Bucky knew how to push her buttons and her much of the same to him. They started off on the wrong foot a few years back when Sam had introduced her to the group as they were working at a summer camp together. Bucky was an ass, Peggy put him in his place and from then on out it was an odd form of friendship. 

A basket of onion rings slid down the table and bumped against Bucky’s hand on the table. His eyes met with Nat’s down the line and he returned her small smile with a brief one of his own. “Hey Buck,” his attention diverted to Sam across the table. “This is Steve.”

It was a quick motion; both Bucky and Steve leaned across the table for a brief yet firm handshake that seemed to last longer than three seconds. Bucky wasn’t sure what he was expecting but someone named Steve certainly didn’t look like that. Blonde, well formed, a too friendly smile, a shirt maybe a half size too small. Hell, Bucky was pretty sure Steve said something to him and he couldn’t register what it was. 

“Yeah,” Bucky blankly replied. “Nice to meet ya too.”

That was a safe enough response. 

Clint put on his interview hat to pull the not so juicy answers out of Steve. Poor guy, been here less than a day and already had to deal with Clint’s big mouth.

“So you’re from LA?” Clint questioned.

Steve shook his head, hand wrapped around a beer bottle. “Brooklyn, actually. Just haven’t been back here in almost ten years.”

“Why did you decide to come back?”

That seemed to be a thought provoking question for Steve. He sat with a concentrated face as the wheels in his mind turned for an explanation. “My lease was coming to an end on the apartment I was renting, I wasn't sure if I wanted to go through all the hassle of trying to search for something new or to lease again. The company I was working for wasn’t fulfilling enough, so I decided to call up Sam and see how he was doing. Turns out Riley was moving out and there was a spare room.”

“The solo bachelor life will be put on hold for at least another year.” Sam spoke. 

“Well Brooklyn is happy to have you back, Steve.” Peggy added, trying to make Steve feel welcomed.. 

**_Hip hip Hooray!_ **

The toe of Natasha’s shoe knocked against Bucky’s shin. He arched a brow at her. “What?”

“You’re being quiet.” Her tone was lightly accusing, tilting her head to the side.

Bucky’s shoulders bounced in a shrug. “Sorry, I guess I didn’t receive the welcoming committee script to put on my best attire and bake an apple pie.” He didn’t see it, but he could sense the eye roll Natasha was bearing. He finished the amber liquid in his bottle and pushed back the chair, stretching out his legs to stand. “Don’t make that face, Natalia.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t being a dick.” 

The sensation of eyes followed him while he walked around the table, swapping out his empty beer bottle for a fresh one as the waitress was bringing another round of drinks to the table. Bucky wasn’t the best at socializing sometimes. Often he got disinterested in the topic at hand and would find his own escape route to do something he wanted to do. And in this case, it wasn’t like he didn’t have anything against Steve, he didn’t know shit about Steve but Bucky was a little fidgety. He grabbed a pool cue off the rack, setting his beer down on a high top and chalked up the end of the cue.

“Hey Barnes, who’s the new kid?”

“Sam’s friend. Just moved in,” Bucky replied. “You startin’ a new game, Gabe?”

“Doubles: You and me, Jim and DumDum?”

Bucky slyly grinned. “Sounds highly unfair, but I can’t complain if I’m on the winning team.”

Gabe laughed, pulling out the rack to order the pool balls. Bucky leaned back against the wall, greeting Jim Morita and DumDum with a head nod as they entered the game. Bucky gazed off to the table where his friends were sat; they were laughing, Clint telling some exaggerated story as usual. Steve seemed to be inclined on the story, intently listening and engaging in the conversation. Bucky’s chest caved in an unprecedented sigh as he rolled the pool cue between his fingers. He watched as Steve leaned back in his chair, him stretching one of his arms over his head. Quickly, Bucky caught Steve’s glance and they held the moment only for a few seconds.

“--Barnes, you’re break.” Gabe called from the side. 

Bucky pushed himself off the wall and dragged his eyes to the dark green clothed table. He lined himself up at the far end, moving the cue ball a smidge over. With one simple, swift moment, Bucky hit the stick to the ball and a loud cracking sound broke the triangle at ease sinking one striped ball in the process. 

Bucky’s head automatically turned back to the table where Steve was still looking over, arms now crossed over his chest. Steve half smiled, returning to the round table conversation. “Stripes, boys!” He announced confidently, a grin pulling at his lips. 

***  
  


The complex was one that was home to young professionals, not so much the older crowd. Something was always happening, music was always flowing from someone's window and a distinct smell also floated in the air especially in the summertime. At night once the sun crept down to sleep, the nightlife erupted with rivers of alcohol and green dusting sprinkled over tables. Sam’s apartment was the _it spot_ for the night. From the first moment Bucky and Clint walked in, you could only see bobbing heads and feel the vibration from the music shake his bones. The home was warm, windows wide open to let in a summer breeze. August was hot, but the people inside were hotter. 

Bucky was greeted along with Clint as she slipped passed bodies to the fridge, opening it up to grab something cold. The drink cured the sheen on sweat that had developed across Bucky’s forehead. He felt comfortable tucked into the background of the kitchen amongst the others around it; he blended in and no one tended to put the spotlight on him which he had come to prefer the older he got. Clint hung by his side, pointing out people who were already a sloppy mess and it was barely half past ten. 

Red hair squeezed passed individuals and appeared in front of Bucky and Clint holding somehow unspilled filled shot glasses and a particularly smug smile. “Consider this a peace offering.”

“For what?” Bucky tilted his head.

Natasha shrugged. “For the inevitable next fight we have about something stupid.”

“Am I that something stupid?”

Another smirk. Nat handed out the shots to the three of them, clinking the glasses together. “Yours words, not mine.”

Bucky shot back the alcohol, it burning as it coarsed down his throat. The miniature glasses crowded in the sink along with used plastic cups and empty beer bottles. “Quill’s here,” Natasha found Bucky’s hand, tugging him in the direction of Sam’s bedroom with Clint trailing along behind them. Standing behind the half closed door was Peter Quill, an old complex resident, and some other neighbours delving out some cash in exchange for some Mary Jane. 

“Hola amigos! Long time no see!” Quill was far too delighted. 

Quill only popped up on two occasions: Parties and when he came to collect an IOU. There was a mid pause until Quill’s other buyers exited the room leaving the four of them and Quill with a cheesy grin. “For my favourite compadres…” He stiffed through an old backpack, pulling out a canister and held it out to Clint. “Only the best.”

Clint twisted off the lid, examining the marijuana as if it was diamond: smelling, the green with orange and purple flecks, taste. “Shit,” Clint looked to Bucky and Nat. “Pay the goddamn man.”

“Call it a gift, Barton,” Quill interjected. “I know you guys are good for me.” He heaved the knapsack over his shoulder, rubbing his hands together. “I’ll check you guys later, I’m sure there’s more cashflow I can find out there.” 

Sam brushed passed Quill, looking mighty stern. “Ya’ll done making drug deals in my bedroom? I kindly ask you to get the fuck out.” 

Bucky looked down at Nat who was staring at Clint. “Shall we?” Clint’s boyish grin sealed the deal.

The coffee table in Sam’s living room was messy with rolling papers and leafy greens. The room was hazy; Nat had her legs stretched over Bucky while she lounged back into the arm of the couch, a few clouds above her head and his as well. Bucky’s gaze lingered on her for a long while.

“What are you doing?” Nat asked softly.

Bucky blinked. “Lookin’ at you.”

Natasha shook her head, pushing his head to the side with the palm of her hand. “Look at someone else for a change. I’m getting sick of it.”

He breathed out a laugh, letting his head fall after her push. His eyes danced along the room and focused in on Steve and Peggy getting acquainted in the opposite corner. Bucky’s brows furrowed as he tried to register the interaction. “What’s goin’ on over there? They already boyfriend-girlfriend?”

“I think Peggy is just being a nice person. Steve doesn’t know anyone here.” Nat used Bucky’s arm to pull herself into a sitting position. “You should try it,” she murmured, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Being a nice person.”

“Don’t use your Christmas wish yet.”

“Romanoff, I need you.” Sam was nearly pleading. “You’re my last resort!”

Sam was losing in beer pong, Natasha was always the secret weapon that could swoop in and clean house without a second thought. “Duty calls.” She patted Bucky’s chest and sauntered her way off to rescue Sam from his losing streak. Bucky bit the inside of his cheek. Clint had fucked off elsewhere and now he was left solo on the couch in a room full of familiar faces. 

The balcony was empty. Bucky slid the door close behind him and took in the night air with the moon being a beacon in the sky. His fingers combed the loose strands of hair away from his face and tucked them behind his ear. He leaned over the cement railing; four stories high and somehow still not high enough. Bucky was always recounting the past, that was his problem when he got into moods like these. It was always what ifs and maybe if he was better everything else would be better. Maybe he wouldn’t be on such a unforseen path.

“Oh-- Sorry. Didn’t realize anyone was out here.” 

Bucky didn’t hear the door open nor close. Steve stood off guard, almost caving into himself with uncertainty. “It’s your balcony, you can come and go as you please.”

Right, it was _Steve’s_ balcony. Bucky was in Steve’s home.

“Yeah,” Steve chuckled softly. “I guess you’re right. Weird. Less than a week ago I was still across the country and now I’m here.”

So they were doing small talk. This was Bucky’s strong point but hell with it. He was still a little buzzed and who else was he going to talk to? “You miss it? LA?”

Steve had his palms flat against the railing, looking up to the sky. “Honestly? Not really. Los Angeles was… A lot. This is a fresh start. Got some shit to figure out.”

“Don’t we all,” Bucky mumbled. He sat himself up on top of the cement, feet dangling over the side. “I’m not jumping.”

There was a hesitant laugh from Steve. “Not completely what I was thinking…” A cheer erupted inside with clapping and stomping of feet. “Is it always like this? So loud, vibrant?”

“Depends on the week, but yeah. Sometimes you need to forget about the world for a while.” Bucky told him. 

Steve turned his body to face Bucky. He seemed intrigued. “So what’s it for you? Partying or sitting out on the balcony by yourself?”

“Depends on the night.”

It was something so simple but Steve had this small smile like he knew a secret of Bucky’s that Bucky didn’t even know. Perhaps this was a common ground; they both liked to be seen but not necessarily be put in the spotlight. 

“I had this view of the ocean. It was beautiful, especially when the sun was setting or the moon was reflecting over the water at night,” Steve began to tell a story. “And whenever something got too much I’d sit out there for hours and just tell myself that the moon doesn’t belong to nobody and neither do I.” 

Bucky listened. He wasn’t sure if it was drugs or the alcohol but the sappy shit Steve was saying had his mind turning in different directions. God, what the fuck was happening? “So anyway,” Steve continued. “Same goes for you. Everyone’s life is shit, but it can be a little less shit with the people you have in your life.”

“You sure you’re not some LA hippie spreading gospels around America?”

That caused Steve to grin wide. “No, I’m just a kid from Brooklyn.” Steve extended his hand out. “Steve Rogers.”

Bucky leaned over, clasping their hands together. This handshake felt different from the previous; more formal, perhaps even friendly then the one before. Steve’s hand was soft, Bucky noticed, and his grip was tight but not to the point where it was awkward. Bucky’s hand in Steve’s felt secure not to mention he felt reeled in by that same small smile Steve was still presenting. “Bucky Barnes. Welcome to the complex.” 


	2. Chapter 2

Steve wasn’t afraid to admit that he didn’t miss Los Angeles. He didn’t miss the traffic, he didn’t miss expectations that loomed over him and he certainly didn’t miss the disingenuous ‘friends’ he had there. Steve wouldn’t lie either; he did miss the ocean and the warm breeze that always swept around his body when he went for his night walks. New York was in his bones, Brooklyn was in his blood and the moment he stepped off the plane he felt a sense of relief. It was like a stack of books had been removed from his chest. He could start over and didn’t feel the added pressure. God, he was nearing his thirties, he could do whatever he wanted. 

The first thing Steve did was completely rearrange Riley’s old room. There wasn’t much to it; Riley had let the bed, a dresser and a side table. All Steve really needed to do was rebuild his desk he had shipped from the west coast but that wasn’t a concern. He unpacked his boxes, neatly refolding his clothes and placed them into the drawers and hung up some in the closet. Steve was a rather simple guy but his room did feel homey. Besides he didn’t have too much else to the furnish since Sam had been living there for a few years. It was strange being back in a two bedroom apartment with his old friend as college seemed like eons ago. 

Bacon sizzled in a pan as Steve woke up into his third week being back in the big city. It was a Sunday, the day of rest, but it sounded like Sam was already up and going about his day. Steve pulled himself into a sitting position on his bed and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. The time on his phone read quarter to ten and there was an email notification. That was his task for tomorrow: figure out the difference from being employed by a company versus self employed. He could do it; his graphic design portfolio was beyond recommendable. For now, it was time for a shower and to see if Sam would share his breakfast. 

Steve rolled himself out of bed and found a fresh set of lounge clothes. Maybe he’d go for a run in the afternoon. He wandered over to his window, pushing back the curtain and twisting open the blinds. The sun was beaming today and he could feel the warmth through the glass. A few folks in the complex sat out on their balconies enjoying the morning sun and some coffee. There, across the courtyard on the fourth floor, perched upon the cement rail sat Bucky in black sport shorts and a deep red tank. Steve wasn’t surprised by this as he had noticed this seemed to be a regular thing for the guy. Clint was out on the balcony as well with a bowl of cereal in hand munching away. Funny, Bucky didn’t seem like an early riser to Steve but truthfully he didn’t know so much about Bucky. Steve watched for another long moment; Clint slipped back inside to the apartment while Bucky continued to sit and push his shaggy hair out of his face. His eyes squinted, looking up at the sky as a plane flew over. Steve let the curtain fall back, moving on to take his shower.

Sam was a saint. A plate of bacon, eggs and toast was ready for Steve on the table when he had emerged clean and clothed. They sat and ate, shooting the shit like nothing had changed and like it hadn’t been four years since the last time they saw each other. Sam was like a brother to Steve. Sam was good people.

“What are your plans for the day?” 

Sam had taken their empty plates to the sink, rinsing them off. “I have a thing this afternoon.”

Steve’s brow rose. “A thing? That’s not ominous at all, Sam.”

“It’s a thing, because it’s not a date. It’s hanging out, chilling. With a lady.” Sam chuckled, wiping his hands dry. 

If there was one thing Steve knew it was that Sam wasn’t secretive, he was more cautious. If something didn’t work out there was no point in dwelling on it too much. Steve wished he had that type of demeanour because he could dwell, oh Steve really could. But he was also good with putting on a good face too. 

“Well I don’t want to get too ahead of myself but I hope your thing goes well.” Steve was hopeful for his friend.

“Yeah, Steve, don’t go jinxing me.” 

Sam disappeared into his room and Steve took the opportunity to suss out a sketch pad and some pencils, taking up real estate on the patio. Perhaps this was him being a complex commoner and taking his Sunday easy for a while. Truthfully there wasn’t too much Steve could see from his balcony as the surrounding buildings blocked his view but his imagination was strong enough he could pull something together. Sam went on his way that after just as he said, Steve made lunch and sat himself back in the chair outside. People came and went down below hauling in this week’s groceries and errands. Steve was unsure how long he was out there but by the time he did, Sam was back home with a big grin on his face and Chinese take out for the two of them. Sam was tight lipped but that’s how Steve knew Sam would be seeing this girl again. 

Steve was more or less settled in. His online portfolio sparked a few interests from an up and coming brewery in Brooklyn along with some other smaller companies within the city. It kept him busy most days while he got into the groove of things and figured out his daily routine: wake up, go for a run, shower, breakfast then work. The routine was simple but worked well. By mid-September, Steve already was feeling more delighted than he ever was in Los Angeles. 

He had an off afternoon without any client work. The neighbourhood he lived in was lively and there was always something to see. He frequented a small coffee shop ten minutes away often to grab a cup of joe and a tasty pastry. Through one of his walks he had found a record store that had occupied more of his time than it should, and today was one of those days. Steve would never label himself as a music snob, in fact, he’d probably get laughed at as his taste ranged from Minnie Riperton to Beastie Boys and Pink Floyd. Steve didn’t have a type, as long as the music was good was all that mattered to him. 

He left the shop with five new records, not intentional, but sometimes that’s how things just happened. He stopped by the bodega close to home and scooped up a jug of milk and a few necessities that didn’t call for a full grocery store run. Steve felt a little eager, rushing his steps back to the complex to spin one of his new records. Also dinner, Steve was starving. He approached his building, hands full with the vinyls and the makeshift groceries in hands. It wasn’t that Steve was clumsy, it was just that sometimes he overestimated himself and this was one of those moments. He couldn’t figure out how to get his damn keys out of his back pocket without smashing the milk jug on the pathway. 

“You need a hand?” 

Steve jolted, startled by the voice. Bucky stood down at the end of the short path, one boot up on the curb while he had his arms hanging by his side grazing the flannel that was tied around his waist. “I’m just sayin’, it’d be kinda shitty if you dropped your groceries.”

“Yeah,” Steve blinked. “My keys are in my back pocket….”

Bucky walked up to Steve, simply glancing at him for a moment before taking out his own keys and unlocking the large door to the building. “Fun fact: the building keys work for all the front doors. Kind of sketchy but hey.” Bucky opened the door and took the milk and a bag from Steve. 

Steve wasn’t sure what to do with that information. Surely the lack of safety in that notion was not good whatsoever. He always thought it was kind of strange Sam handed him two keys to the building. At least his apartment was secure. He hoped. Steve and Bucky walked up the four flights of stairs and down the hallway to the apartment. Steve had enough hands and confidence to unlock the door on his open and go inside. Steve placed everything on the table and took the other groceries from Bucky.

“Thanks for your help. Don’t have to cry over spilt milk now.” Steve laughed almost shyly. 

Bucky huffed something of a chuckle. “Would have been tragic.” He picked up the vinyls off the table, scanning through the front and back of them. And then… Steve’s nearly worst nightmare. “ABBA? Really?” Bucky’s eyes flickered from the cover to Steve who had nearly shrunk into himself. “At least you picked up Arrival. Could have been worse.”

This entire conversation could have been eighty times worse, and yet, Bucky didn’t poke fun at Steve. 

“We all have guilty pleasures,” Steve was relaxed and relieved. “You must have one too?”

Bucky shrugged, something Steve had seen before. His shrug was so casual and could slide any conversation into a different direction with ease. “You got anymore?”

Steve nodded, beckoning Bucky to follow him to his room. He didn’t have a stellar collection but it was enough. He reached under his desk and pulled out a crate, heaving it up to place on top of his neatly made bed. Bucky began to thumb through the albums, pulling out ones he was either interested in or was silently judging. Steve couldn’t tell. 

This was kind of weird, yet at the same time Steve was almost flattered that Bucky didn’t bolt after thirty seconds. Bucky pulled out a record, spinning it between his fingers as he took it out of the sleeve. Steve took it without a word and placed it onto the record player he had tucked into one corner of the room. Gently, the needle touched the vinyl and started to play. 

Bucky’s head bopped along to the beat of the song as he continued to look at the sleeve art. “It’s so smooth,” he said. “The sound, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Steve smiled small. “Authentic. Nothing will ever replicate the same sound that was captured on Ziggy Stardust.”

They stood there for nearly five minutes before  _ Five Years  _ was over and fading into  _ Soul Love _ . It wasn’t uncomfortable, at least not for Steve. He really enjoyed this sort of company. Sometimes you didn’t need to speak, other things did the talking for you. Bucky’s phone buzzed from the pocket of his jeans and when he took it out a crease formed in between his eyebrows.

“Hey Bec, yeah I’m on my way,” Bucky swayed his weight from leg to leg. Steve lowered the volume of the music so it wasn’t a disruption. “Almost there.”

Steve didn’t hear much but something along the lines of  _ fucking liar _ did catch his attention. Bucky snickered, saying a quick goodbye and ended the call. “Gotta head out. Late for dinner.”

“Of course,” Steve nodded. “Don’t keep her waiting.” Bucky laughed at that, a breathy and boyish inflection. Steve liked it. “If you want to listen to anything else sometime… well, I guess you know where I live.”

Bucky was already on the other side of the door, making his way out. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that.”

“Cool.” Steve said smoothly, nodding along. “Have a nice dinner.”

He held onto the door as Bucky went on his way. “By the way— it was my sister. I wouldn’t keep a date waiting.” 

Steve wasn’t too sure why this information was important but Bucky shared it, so it must have had some significance. Him and Bucky weren’t friends necessarily. This was basically the first piece of personal information Steve knew about the guy besides his random unnerved affection with sitting on top of cement railings. Nonetheless, Steve gave a quick smile and waved to Bucky as he disappeared down the stairs.

***  
  


Steve had a no good, very bad, terrible Thursday. A new client he was working with was far too scattered brained for Steve’s liking, switching up his ideas more times than he could count on his one hands, and double emailing Steve (double emailing was Steve’s office pet peeve, suss out your email before sending it!) That was one problem, sure, and somehow by 2pm that day he had managed to get the client on one track and was starting from scratch. The second problem was the bigger one, the more  _ what the fuck is actually happening _ problem. 

Here was another thing about Steve: he was an overthinker, over analyzer, over observer. 

So when a text message came in from a Los Angeles area code and it was from a number he  _ thought _ he deleted, Steve was sent for a spin.

**_Hey Steve, LA misses you. I miss you._ **

Eight stupid little words and Steve was glued to the couch for the next three hours until Sam strolled in the door. Poor guy stared at Steve for a long moment before poking him with the TV remote to see if he was still vital. Sam read the message, scowled and shook his head.

“We’re going out!” He proclaimed. “Get dressed!”

Now Steve was sitting at a table at Xander’s with Sam, Natasha and Peggy in hopes of getting his mind off that stupid text message. He wasn’t sure if Sam had told the girls what happened, but they both were boosting his mood which was nice enough of them. Natasha bought the first round of drinks, followed by Sam. God, how… how could he get a text from  _ him _ ? After all this time?

_ “What if he means it?”  _

_ Sam sighed. “Man, you know he doesn’t. He’s toying with you probably because he has no one else to look at in LA anymore.” _

_ It was an offhanded compliment to make Steve feel better, but his lips didn’t even twitch. Instead, his palms were pressed to his eye sockets while his mind was spinning in twenty different directions. That was a chunk of the reason why Steve was in Brooklyn; his heart was hurt and just when he began to heal he was dragged back into the same loop. This happened in LA all the time, all the games and uncertainty.  _

_ “Gimme your phone.” _

_ “What?” _

_ “Steve, just give me your phone, man.”  _

_ Steve obliged, handing it out to Sam. Within less than ten seconds, Sam had deleted and blocked the phone number. “Now, get ya ass up and get dressed!” _

“I’ll get the next round of drinks.” Peggy offered, scooting out of her chair next to Steve. Steve guzzled down what was left in his glass, setting it down on the table.

A heavy sigh exhaled through his nose. Steve’s eyes darted around the room. Xander’s was busy for Thirsty Thursday with Clint working his shift behind the bar. His attention was held by the pool tables. Bucky was there with his pool friends. Temporarily, Steve’s mind drifted from the looming text to instead the boy clad in black. 

Bucky donned black jeans with a slit in the knee and his typical black boots. His top half wore a more form fitting black jean jacket opposed to the more relaxed, lighter denim coloured one Steve had seen him sometimes wear as the humidity was starting to wear off. The only contrast was the white t-shirt underneath the jacket. Bucky blended in yet stuck out within the crowd across the bar. He looked pretty concentrated on something as he talked to one of his friends, Steve noticed. Bucky’s brows pulled together before waving off and shaking his head. 

Oh, he was walking towards them.

“Nat, doubles with me.” Bucky approached the table, a hint of a beg to his tone. 

“Why can’t Gabe?”

Bucky huffed. “He’s out of cash.”

Natasha laughed. “Then no.”

“Steve?”

Steve blinked at the sound of his name, looking up at Bucky with an arched brow. “Me?”

“Yeah,” Bucky’s weight shifted to one leg, placing his hand on the table. “You play? I need a partner.” 

“Sure.”

Steve spoke before his mind could justify whether he not he could play. He could, but his body was ahead of his thinking. Bucky shone a half drink, taking Steve over to the pool tables. It was a little bit nosier over here compared to the sitting area. If there was any time to feel out of the norm it was now. 

“Hey, this is Steve. Steve, this is Jim, Gabe and DumDum.” Bucky introduced quickly. 

“Hey Steve.”   
  
“Hi Steve, nice to meet ya.”   
  
“How’s it goin’, Steve?”

Okay, the guys seemed nice enough which was a good sign. He shook everyone’s hand with a rather polite smile, then grabbed a pool cue to chalk up. 

“Ooooh boys! We have a special visitor coming our way. Gussy up!” DumDum announced with a big grin on his face. “Miss Carter, good evening.”

Peggy approached with a draft of beer in her hand, smiling at the boys. “Evening, gentlemen. Winning some, or losing some?”

“The latter.” Gabe shrugged. 

Peggy laughed. “Here Steve, Sam said you’d be over here.”

Steve took the beer. Right, she was buying the next round. “Oh, thanks Peggy.”

“Play nice, boys.”

“Wow!” Dumdum looked to Steve. “How did you make that happen?”

“What happen?” Steve took a gulp before setting the glass down on the ledge. 

“Peggy! We all saw that look right?” Jim glanced around hoping for a confirmation. 

“Oh!” Steve let out an awkward laugh. “Peggy’s great but she’s not my field…”

There were a few nods and a couple of  _ Ooh’s _ . Steve peaked over at Bucky who had turned his head away rather quickly, scooping up some coins from the ledge to put in the pool table. “So who are we playing?” Steve moved around to go to Bucky’s side.

“You see Trust Fund Bentley and Ivy League Julian over there?” Bucky nodded his head to the end of the bar where there was a group of four guys who screamed  _ My Parents Basically Own Wall Street.  _ In college, Steve would have been a little intimidated by these guys. But now, Steve was older and they were basically kids blowing some cash. 

“Hey Barnes, who’s your friend?” Trust Fund Garrett had a cocky smile. 

“You playin’ or not Bentley?” 

_ Oh, his name was actually Bentley… like the car.  _

Bentley dug into his pocket to retrieve some too expensive leather wallet and slammed down some money on the edge of the pool table. Bucky did the same, although his cash was a bit crinkled. Gabe scooped up the money, counting it out. 

“Age before beauty.” Bentley smiled.

“You know how to hide a body?” Bucky murmured to Steve on his way to the end of the table. Steve laughed to himself. 

The kids knew how to talk smack. Steve was somehow unfazed but also wondering where their mothers were. Him and Bucky were solids, Bentley and Columbia (Steve had learned this for no reason) Julian were stripes. Bucky appeared a little stressed. Steve was unsure how much money Bucky had laid on the table and was too afraid to ask Gabe how much the pot was. The game was close, too close. Steve already downed his beer from the tension. 

“Hey Buck, you got this!” Jim encouraged.

There were onlookers too, not a crowd but a few people who were intrigued by what the outcome would be. They could take it; all Bucky had to do was bank a shot and hopefully get it in the corner pocket. God, Steve felt  _ nervous _ .Bucky was examining the table tenfold, figuring out what was the best way to go about it.

“Off the right bank, into the left corner pocket.” Bucky decided.

Julian laughed. “You sure ‘bout that? Ben, collect our stack.”

Bucky glanced at Steve. Steve half smiled, nodding. It was the only real shot Bucky could take, nothing else seemed possible. It was as if the air around them had stopped. Bucky lined himself up, adjusting where need be. He drew back and pushed the cue forward, tapping the cue ball with just the right amount of force. Off the bank, left pocket, sink. Game over.

_ Just like that. _

Bucky’s friends were more elated then they were. Gabe was nearly jumping on Bucky and Jim and DumDum were hooting and hollering. Steve smiled, relieved. 

Columbia Julian and Car Dealership Bentley seemed less than impressed with the final verdict. But if Steve knew anything it was that it was pocket change for them. The kids took off shortly after, swearing and shaking their heads. Bucky approached Steve, thumbing through the dollar bills.

“Congratulations.” Steve cheered.

“Thanks for not sucking.”He was teasing, Steve could tell. There was a glimmer in Bucky’s blue eyes and he was happy. “Let me buy you a drink.”

There was no way Steve could say no if it meant spending an extra ten minutes not thinking about that text message. He followed Bucky to the bar, slipping into two free stools near the end. The bar’s occupancy had dimmed down a bit. Steve glanced back at the table seeing it empty. The others must have gone home. 

“Hey Bucky, Steve.”

“Hey Wanda, can you get us two, each?”

Steve smiled at Wanda, a fellow complex resident who on and off bartend while she was in school. Steve and her were acquainted from another party a few weeks back. Wanda retrieved two beers for them both, putting the glasses in front of them. Bucky slipped her some cash.

“This isn’t going to be good, I’ve got work in the morning.” Steve chuckled.

“Don’t we all?” Bucky picked up one of the glasses and took a long sip. 

Steve did the same and settled into the stool. There was silence. Bucky took the hair tie off his wrist and with little effort twisted his hair and tied it into a low bun. It softened his features when he did that. He played with a cardboard coaster between his fingers, and Steve swore that maybe Bucky was humming to the muffled music that was playing overheard. Honestly? Bucky was nice. Was that the right word? It’d be good enough for now. If anything, he was nice to look at.

“Sam says you work at your dad’s autoshop?” Steve sparked a conversation. 

Bucky nodded. “Yeah. Pays the bills.”

“Anything vintage? I’m a bit partial to a 1966 Shelby. My grandfather had one.”

That must have struck something in Bucky because he perked up. “I bought this destroyed ‘70 Camaro from a customer. I’m restoring it, well, tryin’ to. Engine’s shot.”

“When it’s fixed you’ll have to let me see it.”

Bucky raised his glass to his lips. “Maybe let you ride shotgun if you’re lucky.”

Steve felt warm. His chest, his cheeks, his hands. Surely Bucky was simply offhandedly joking, screwing around. Perhaps, maybe a touch of flirting. “I can only hope I’d be so lucky.”

_ Shut the hell up, Steven. _

They chatted for a long while. Wanda came and cleared their empty glasses and they remained in their stools until just after midnight when Steve was finally calling it a night. They walked back together.

“This night made my shitty day a lot better.” Steve admitted. 

“Sounds harsh.”

Steve shook his head, slipping his hands into the front pocket of his jeans. “My ex texted me today. He wasn't the greatest and now he’s trying to pop back up. Another reason, big reason, I moved here.”

“Sorry to hear that.” Bucky’s sounded sincere. “He sounds like a dick.”

“Well, that’s probably a nice word compared to what I’ve called him in my head.” Steve laughed to lighten the mood. “We’ll keep it PG.”

Bucky snickered. “Yeah, well, I’m a little biased to Brooklyn anyway. I live here, so that’s a pretty good reason to live here.” He was talkative, perhaps a little tipsy.

“Oh yeah?” Steve looked at Bucky as they entered the courtyard. “That’s the best reason to live in Brooklyn? You?”

Bucky shrugged. “I don’t see you disagreeing with me, Stevie.”

_ Stevie. Oh no. _

They stopped in the middle of the yard facing one another. Bucky’s eyes looked tired, almost like he could crash on the pavement and sleep like a baby. Steve drank in Bucky’s presence for another moment. “Goodnight, Buck.”

“Yeah, goodnight Steve. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.” He joked, shuffling his way to his building. 

Steve curled himself underneath his comforter that night, closing his eyes to finally sleep. He didn’t disagree, he realized. And maybe because there was nothing to disagree with at all. 


	3. Chapter 3

It came in waves. Fights, the make ups, the break ups. 

It was hard to guess which one was going to come crashing down and if you would drown or manage to break through the surface. Try and try again until trying becomes less productive. Heartbreaks, misuse, mistakes, tearful mishaps. This cycle was on a continuous loop within Bucky’s mind. There were regrets, things that shouldn’t have been said. Perhaps there were signs he ignored, did he hold her back? Self sabotage at his own account, he was his own worst enemy. 

What’s in the past is in the past, but sometimes moving forward proved to be more of an obstacle. 

_ “You’re actually ridiculous.” _

_ “Why? Come on, Nat!” _

_ Natasha was a good six feet in front of him, power walking (stomping) to the direction of the subway stairs and down them. Bucky slipped his way past bodies that were exiting the tunnel, trying to keep up with her pace.  _

_ “Natalia.” He managed to tug her elbow. She pulled herself away, twisting to look up at him. “Don’t do this again.” _

_ “Are you even hearing yourself, James?” Natasha’s volume heightened. Few people glanced in their direction as they passed by; Bucky rolled his head back, shaking it. “Don’t.” _

_ “Don’t what?” _

_ “You know  _ exactly  _ what,” she challenged.  _

_ This was it, them constantly going in circles with empty accusations because both of them were too stubborn to get to the cold hard facts. Bucky did indeed know what she was referring to, he knew exactly what. If he wasn’t so damn unyielding then they wouldn’t have to have the same fight for the twentieth time. Natasha, well, saying she looked upset was more of an understatement. He could see a veil of fought back tears shining in her green eyes while her face was stone. Never had he seen her cry. _

_ She didn’t want him to lie. He never liked lying to her anyway.  _

_ “We can’t keep doing this.” She was hurt and she had every right to be.  _

_ Truth be told, Natasha was Bucky’s first actual long term relationship. Liv Heldon in the tenth grade was barely something of a relationship, she just wanted a date to spring formal and Bucky was somehow on the rise being mixed in with the ‘cool kids’ and playing decently on the varsity football team. Henry Preston in senior year was a boy that went to the private school down the road from Bucky’s high school. He had pretty eyes and good hands, but everything else lacked about the kid. Besides, Bucky always found someone else to look at, someone else to spark a terrible idea in his mind.  _

_ Old habits die hard, he supposed.  _

_ Josh-- or was it Jerome?-- was the terrible idea that smacked Bucky between the eyes and landed him flat on his ass. Bucky didn’t mean to flirt, he just wanted to see the tall, unfairly attractive, dark haired and tanned boy that kept starting at him from across the party. Anyone with eyes could see that Bucky was the one who was approached, Bucky was polite and smiled and said hello. Jerome (er, Josh?) was the touchy feely one. Although Bucky didn’t really oppose it. Bucky… Yeah, Bucky fucked up. _

_ He wasn’t even sure what his apology was worth anymore to Natasha. When she said “we” she meant herself, rightfully so. The thing was, Bucky liked people, for the most part. He didn’t care as long as you were a decent person. Bucky wasn’t going to be the asshole and tell Nat that she should have known what she was getting into, that wasn’t fair. He promised her he tried because a big part of him loved her, she was his best friend. Maybe that was the problem.  _

_ “I’m sorry,” he finally pushed out the words. “I don’t know what else to say.” _

_ “I don’t think there’s anything left.” _

_ There’s emptiness that made itself home in Bucky’s chest. He loses his girlfriend (again), more importantly, he loses the sense of his best friend. He didn’t remember the subway ride home that night but what he does remember is slumming it in his bedroom and polishing off a bottle of the finest bodega whiskey there is. It takes months, six months until Bucky and Natasha fall back into each other's lives. It’s rough at first; so much uncertainty and the lack of trust. They were too bonded at the root of it all. Bucky apologies to her at Sam’s birthday at Xander’s, they’re in a back booth and he’s fucking crying about it.  _

_ Guess you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone. _

“She just bailed on me again.”

Clint cranked his head around to look at Bucky standing behind the couch. “Now do you believe that she’s probably a secret agent spy? Coming home late, cancelling plans, being super weird."

Bucky gave Clint a look, rolling his eyes. “You read too many comics.” 

This was the third time Natasha cancelled their plans. Normally Bucky wouldn’t care too much but for whatever reason it was itching at him. Her text was so simple:  **Postpone?** It was one thing postponing drinks. He understood, they always went to Xander’s in groups anyway. But you couldn’t postpone the horror movie marathon at the local cinema. Halloween wasn’t an every day holiday. So naturally, Bucky does what any reasonably annoyed friend does: he knocks on her door. 

He wasn’t really sure what to expect when she opened the door. For a moment he figured it’d be Peggy but she was probably off tutoring some kids at the library. On the other side of the door, Natasha stands looking rather immaculate in a black dress and her red hair was wavy. 

“You’re postponing the movies so you can go dress up?”

His tone comes off a little more harsh that he anticipated, truly he was trying to tease her. Safe to say she wasn’t too amused.

“I have a thing,” she told him. “A date.”

A date.

“Oh,” that’s the only sound and word he could manage for the moment as his brain processed this information. Was this the part where he started to drill her with questions? Who was her date? Where, when? Did he know this person? It wasn’t jealousy, it was solely protection. “That’s great.”

Why did this feel so awkward?

“They’re playing Cujo at Cobble Hill on Sunday, 3pm. My treat?”

Bucky eyed her. Alright, at least she knew how to win him back over. “You’re buying the popcorn too.”

“I  _ always _ buy the popcorn.” She smiled. “I gotta…”

“Yeah, right,” he nodded, she was probably on her way out before Bucky got snoopy. “Have a nice time.”

Less awkward, but still, Bucky left uneasy about it. It wasn’t his call to make. Nat was a grown woman and could do whatever she wanted, they weren’t together, they were friends and friends supported friends. Bucky opened and closed his door, slumping down on the couch next to Clint.

“So? Is she a spy or not?”

“She’s going on a date.”

Clint’s faces twisted as if he had just sucked on a sour candy. He took a second to process this new information only to come out with: “So that doesn’t rule out her being a spy…”

Bucky smacked him with a pillow. Clint couldn’t help but laugh.

Leftover pizza from two days ago was their dinner for the night. Clint was hogging the entire couch leaving Bucky to slump in the tackiest green armchair he had ever seen, yet somehow it was the comfiest thing ever too. He mindlessly watched Clint absolutely obliterate pre-teens in his videogame which was never not amusing, however, Bucky still had an unsure feeling swirling around in his gut. Pushing himself up, Bucky stretched out his limbs and wandered down the small hall to his bedroom, pressing the door open with his foot. 

His attention was quickly caught out of the corner of his eye. Bucky approached his window looking out into the courtyard and across the way. Steve had his blinds open, curtains drawn back. He looked to be on the phone, pacing around sweatpants and shirtless. This was certainly an interesting discovery. Steve appeared puzzled about something, using his free hand to try and explain something to whoever was on the other end of the phone. Define was created when Steve moved his arm and now Bucky was beginning to wonder if he was being super creepy for staring at his neighbour across the complex. Truthfully, it was very easy to look at Steve, no one in the entire world could deny that. 

Bucky unregretfully took another minute to peak before closing his curtains. He didn’t know so many things about Steve besides the fact that he loved ABBA, used to live in LA and has a dick of an ex-boyfriend. He’s pretty sure Clint mentioned once that Steve works as a graphic designer, but that was mainly it. Bucky was ignoring the fact that Steve was also tall, in brilliant shape and that he really liked his laugh… a lot. None of that was too important anyway.

Somehow within the next hour Bucky had found himself splayed out in bed, groggy and half asleep with this laptop open beside himself. God, this Wednesday night was beyond weird. He shuffled for his phone finding it under his pillow and squinted at the time. It was nearing nine and his room was completely black. He twisted his body and pulled himself out of bed, wiping the sleep out of his eyes. His hair was messy (and definitely needed a wash). Emerging from his bedroom, Clint was still perched on the couch with the Playstation controller in his hand and his eyes glued to the TV. His only source of light was emitting from the range hood above the stove. 

“How was your nap, sunshine?”

Bucky made a grunting sound, padding his way to the kitchen to find something to drink. “I think I heard Nat come home from her date.” Clint added.

Bucky guzzles water, glancing over his way. “Okay?”

Clint shrugged, “Just sayin’. Dammit, what the  _ fuck _ !”

“Hey, you got any more of Quill’s stuff?”

“Yeah--  _ fuck! _ \-- Top drawer of my dresser.”

Bucky shook his head. Clint being screwed over fourteen year olds was always something to laugh about, but Bucky wasn’t feeling it tonight. He walked into Clint’s room, jiggling open the drawer from the old dresser and searched around until he found an old Altoids tin. Ugh, why did Clint have to store the good weed in his underwear drawer? Bucky took one rolled joint and put the rest back, swiping a lighter off of Clint’s nightstand as well. 

The autumn air was surprisingly warm for the late evening. It was comfortable sweater weather. Bucky placed the filtered end between his lips and flicked the lighter to burn the other end. His body hunched over, elbows up on the railing with the palms of his hands pressing hard to his forehead. Turning his head to the left, he could see a peak of Natasha and Peggy’s living room. There was a light on, perhaps the two of them were chit chatting about Natasha’s date. Did it go well? Would she go out again? 

_ Christ _ , he had a headache.

Across the way, the sliding door in the opposite building had opened and shut, balcony light turned on. Bucky squinted his eyes, inhaling and exhaling the drug. Steve. It was the shirtless neighbour, but for Bucky’s unfortunate night, Steve had covered himself in a hoodie. 

“Hey Stevie!” Bucky called out. Steve looked startled, shifting in the plastic chair and shot his head up. Bucky snickered. “That ex of yours leaving you alone?”

“Hi Bucky,” Steve greeted, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah… Haven’t heard from him.”

“Good.”

There was a soft laugh muffled with the sound of cars from the road. “How are you?” Steve asked.

Bucky shrugged, taking the joint away from his lips to respond. “Living, I guess. You going to Wanda’s party on Friday?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, Sam mentioned it to me. I was thinking about it.”

Bucky’s brow quirked. “Got other plans?”

“No, no,” Steve laughs again and Bucky half wishes their balconies were closer for a moment. 

“Well I’m going.”

“Are you?”

“Yep.” Bucky popped the ‘p’ for more emphasis. 

“Well, that changes everything,” Steve pondered. “I’ll have to find my best party shirt.”

Bucky was unsure whether or not Steve was pulling his leg or being actual. Either way, Bucky was intrigued. “Wear blue.”

“Think I might have something blue.” Steve nods. Bucky  _ knows _ Steve has something blue. Just last week Steve wore this too nice pull over sweater to Xander’s and filled out his silhouette too well. 

The conversation died for a few moments. Bucky’s relief nearly disintegrates between his fingers and Steve seemed to be occupied by paper and a pencil. “I got a new album,” Steve piped up. “The Clash, Combat Rock.”

“Good album, last album to feature all the original members of the band.”

“Yeah, Mick was their best guitarist.”

The joint burned out before Bucky could even realize. He stood up straight, stifling back a yawn. “So I’ll see you Friday?”

“In blue.”

Bucky swore he could hear Steve smiling from across the way. He waves before slipping back into the apartment. That pit in this stomach vanished and honestly he didn’t want to think much of it for him to come back. Instead, Bucky climbed back into bed and wondered if Steve would wear that sweater again.   
  


Wanda’s apartment was on the second floor of the third building in the complex adjacent to Bucky’s. She shared it with her twin brother Pietro who didn’t seem to care much in particular towards Bucky. Not that Bucky really cared, honestly. The home was squishy with bodies and a copious amount of alcohol, it felt like a Frat party. Bucky mingled, observing familiar and new faces. Natasha had gone off somewhere with Peggy a while ago, leaving him to his lonesome. Typical tag-a-long buddy Clint was working.

Bucky’s head absentmindedly bopped along to the music that was vibrating the floorboards and pulsing through his body. He grew comfortable in a corner, befriending a Selena Gomez lookalike and her too drunk pink haired friend. The conversation was mediorce, she was too smiley and giggly for Bucky to even comprehend nor give too much of a fuck. 

He lifted the plastic cup to his lips, downing what was left. He’d need another one if he was going to stick around for another conversation with Selena. Or not.

“Could you excuse me,” Bucky told the girl, lack of a question and more of a see ya never. Through the front door strolled through Sam and behind him was Steve dressed in  _ blue _ . Okay, so it wasn’t the sweater like Bucky had hoped but he’d take the one size too small white t-shirt and the knitted blue cardigan that normally would make anyone look eighty-five but Steve damn sure pulled it off perfectly. 

Bucky swiped two beers from a nearby cooler as he proceeded his way to Steve. Sam had taken off as soon as they wandered in. Wordlessly, Bucky approached Steve and held out the beer in a greeting. Steve smiled, taking the gracious offer and popped the tab open of the can.

“If you’re the welcoming committee, where’s your sash? Do we have to wear name tags?”

The corner of Bucky’s lip pulled upward. “Shit, I knew I was forgetting something.”

Bucky was three beers in comparison to Steve’s one and already the reality he was living in was starting to blur around the edges. Not to mention he was a little hazy from a quick hit, but that was fraying rapidly. Steve swished back some of the lager, glancing around. 

“Is this okay?”

“Hm?”

Steve motioned to his blue cardigan, smoothing it a bit. “Yeah. You-- It looks great.” Bucky replied.  _ Fucking great. _

Bucky and Steve were a duo that evening, moving from the kitchen to the living room, getting some fresh air on the balcony. Steve wasn’t needy like Clint was, which wasn’t really an issue, but Steve was just so much more simple. It was a good, Bucky was enjoying himself, everything else seemed to melt in the background. Almost everything else. 

“Do you want another?” Bucky asked. Beer eight for Buck, fourth for Steve. He didn’t even wait for Steve to respond, he went on a search for something to keep the buzz going. 

Staying by the fridge was Peggy, drinking in hand and an amused smile on her lips. “You looked flushed, Barnes.”

“Do I?” He tilted his head, shrugging. “Just having a nice time.”

“I can see that.” 

He opened the fridge, rummaging around until he found some beers tucked into the back. Those were probably Pietro’s, oh well. “Where’s Nat?”

Peggy rubbed her lips together, keeping her gaze forward. “Not sure.”

Bucky blinked, confusion circling his head. He turned around, cracking open one of the beers for himself. His eyes darted from head to head in the room until he laid upon his redhead friend mixed in with a group of friends and acquaintances. Natasha was laughing, smiling big at something Sam, next to her, was saying. She looked proud, happy. And then there was Sam, animated and slipping his arm around Natasha’s waist to keep her tucked into his side, beaming at her. 

_ What the actual--  _

“Bucky,” Peggy’s voice was something of an echo in the back of his mind. She grabbed him briefly before her fingertips slipped away from his jacket and he was moving briskly.

There was no recognition of Bucky leaving the kitchen and promptly making his way to Nat and Sam. He was cut off by Natasha, pushing him back as his eyes daggered into Sam. “Don’t,” Natasha’s hands were on his chest, shaking her head. “Please don’t.”

“What the fuck, Nat?!” He yelled causing some heads to swivel around. He swayed backwards at another push as his chest, looking down at her. “Are you fucking kidding me!”

Natasha shoved him again, getting him to turn around and move him out of the apartment to the hallway. “Sam!  _ Fucking Sam! _ ”

“Stop it,” Natasha demanded.

“There are eight zillion people in New York, and it’s Sam!” 

His body felt like it was on fire, torched and smoldering. Out of all people, Sam, Sam fucking Wilson. His friend, their friend. Bucky’s hands felt shaky, his lungs wincing with sharp intakes of air. Yes, he wasn’t in charge of whoever Natasha decided to see or who to hook up with, but…

“You’re not…”

Natasha’s arms were folded tight over her chest, stern eyes but there was a film of water coating them.“It’s not meant to hurt you. If you cared about me, about us, you know that Sam is a good person.” She held his gaze. Bucky felt his body quake. “What else would you like me to say?”

Sam was a good person. But fuck. He was wounded.

“I don’t think there’s anything left to say.”

He felt defeated and obviously it reflected on his features since Natasha frowned and started to look a little hopeless. “Wait--”

“No,” he declined. “Don’t let me ruin your evening, Nat. Don’t let me fuck it up like I always do. That’s what you’re thinking, right?”

“Don’t be your own worst enemy, James.” 

Bucky waved her off, turning his back to her and walked off. With aggression he tossed open the door and stomped out into the crisp autumn night; head fuzzy and chest tight. He felt deranged, out of body and just so  _ hurt _ . Natasha and Sam, Sam and Natasha. Where did he miss the signs? 

“Bucky! Buck, wait up!”

Steve, right. He just left him there beerless. But right now he couldn’t, he couldn’t deal with Steve or Natasha or anything. 

“Hey…” Steve’s tone was soft, catching up to him just before the curb of the courtyard ended and the road began. “Are you alright? I don’t really know what’s going on but--”

“Honestly, Steve, can you just… fuck off?”

Bucky would regret that later.

Steve took a step back, nodding and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Sorry.”

  
  


Three empty bottles of beer were sat upon the bartop. Bucky’s head was tucked into his folded arms on the bartop, his eyes closed, burning and he was so done. A full beer was placed to his left, the others being collected and put into a beer case under the bar. 

“Do you want to add that to your tab?”

Bucky reluctantly pulled his head up feeling slightly dizzy. “Sure,” he replied, taking a long swig of the beer. Clint stood on the other side of the bar, polishing glasses from the dishwasher. “This probably some karma shit right?”

Clint shrugged. “I dunno. I just think… you know, it could be worse? It’s Sam. Sam’s our friend.”

Clint really wasn’t helping. He was completely neutral towards the whole situation, which in theory, was how Bucky should be feeling. Instead he was going to drown himself until the feeling of numb felt permanent for a little while. Bucky didn’t know who he should be mad at: Natasha, Sam, himself? All three?

His head was so jumbled. 

“You love her still? Is that what it is?”

Bucky refused to look at Clint. “I don’t....” he trailed off, “No. Not like that.” There was always going to be something unresolved, he figured, he did love Natasha. Once upon a time it was romantically and now it was some messed up overprotection for her. 

“It sucks and I’m sorry, but being pissed off won’t solve anything.”

Since when was Clint graced with some form of reason? Bucky swallowed half of his beer. 

“Think I told Steve to fuck off, too.”

“Classic Bucky, ruining every sort of relationship!” Clint was joking (not really).

“What are you talking about?”

Clint opened up a beer, handing it to a fellow patron who sat down at the other end bar. “I mean, I think Steve’s got some sort of crush on you?”

“Fuck off, Barton.”

“ No really!” Clint was serious, moving his way back to Bucky. “Peggy thinks so too.”

“This seems like a riveting conversation you and Carter have had.” Bucky rolled his eyes, returning his head to his folded arms. Maybe he could sleep here, just waste away at the bar. 

Clint sighed. “Maybe I don’t know all the facts, but I know that he does that thing people do in movies. Like get all glossy eyes and hearts float around their head. That’s Steve. Really adorable. And you wanna know something?”

“Not really.”

“I think you could like him too, you know, if you tried a bit more. Don’t mindlessly flirt with him, maybe like, try a little more.”

Was Clint actually calling Bucky out on his bullshit? Was this what it took, Bucky breaking down for Clint to tell him to smarten up? Fucking hell. 

Bucky drained what was left in his bottle, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Thanks for the life advice.”

“Don’t be a dick, man. I’m just trying to help.”

Not much more was said. Bucky slapped some money down onto the counter top and parted ways. It was creeping past midnight and his body felt exhausted. His keys dropped twice trying to get into his building, and he almost had an argument with his front door for not opening. He peeled off his clothes, toeing off his boots and sank into his bed. 

Thankfully sleep came quick and Bucky could be free of his terrible mind. 

Everything was fuzzy. The bones in his body ached, swearing he hadn’t moved at all in his sleep. It felt like a cement block was pressing down on his chest. He had a headache, that much he knew and his stomach was unbearably empty. His mouth felt like it was filled with cotton; dry and chalky. He sat up too fast, room spinning and speckles of black dots dancing through his vision. Ugh, he needed a Tylenol. 

Surprisingly the first thing that came to mind, besides needing to medicate, was Steve. Bucky felt like shit, really. Steve hadn’t done anything wrong and yet he told the guy to fuck off. Class act, Bucky was. 

He managed to get to the kitchen, popping off the lid of the Tylenol bottle and chugging some water. Then, he went to the shower hoping to scrub off all the grossness that he was covered in, mentality and physically. He felt some relief which was better than nothing. His shaggy hair was a damp mess, towel drying in in the bathroom before wrapping the towel around his waist and moving back to his bedroom. It looked like a perfect autumn day outside: sunny, yellow and orange leaves swirling around in the air. Bucky got himself into some clothes and persuaded himself to go down to the coffee shop around the corner to cut his hangover with caffeine and perhaps a bagel. 

Clint emerged from his room just after noon, half his hair spiky from the way he slept. Bucky had sunk into the couch for most of the morning, crumbles of bagel on his chest and a half drank coffee on the small table in front of him. They exchanged brief grunts of hellos before Clint disappeared into the bathroom.

Bucky felt stuck. He wasn’t even sure what to do with himself, it was a Saturday normally he’d be out having a good time. Today his good time was watching all the Halloween movies on TV until he was bored out of his mind. Clint didn’t seem to be in the mood to do much either, glued to his phone playing some game. Bucky huffed, sitting up on the couch and rubbed his eyes. 

_ Steve _ , he thought. That poor guy.

Getting to his feet, Bucky went to the fridge and pulled out the mixed six pack of beer and closed it. “Where are you going?” Clint finally looked up from his phone.

“Out.”

Clint hummed, narrowing his eyes. “I bought those.” 

Bucky slipped on his shoes before digging out his wallet and tossing a twenty dollar bill on the kitchen table. “Buy yourself a pizza.”

He left, jogging down the steps with the beer cans rattling together. His quick twenty second walk across the courtyard had Bucky unlocking the main door to the parallel building and making his way up to the fourth floor. Alright, so Bucky wasn’t the best at apologies, he knew that. Hopefully Steve wasn’t too upset with him. Approaching the door, Bucky tapped his knuckles against the wood three times before taking a small step back and waited.

The lock turned and the knob jiggled, opening up to (thankfully) Steve standing on the other side of the doorway. He looked surprised. 

“I know, probably not your first hope at who would be at the door.”

“Well,” Steve hummed. “You’re definitely not the Thai food I ordered, so perhaps a little disappointed.”

Bucky mustered a soft chuckle, nodding. That was fair enough. “Um, anyway, remember when you said that I could come by and listen to some more records? Is that offer still available or did I fuck it up last night?” 

“Offer is still valid, “Steve was too generous, moving out of the way to let Bucky inside. “ I was thinking about you this morning…”

“That sounds dangerous.”

Steve chuckled. “Are you okay? I kind of figured out what happened.”

Bucky shrugged his shoulders, opening the tab of the can and handed Steve a beer. “Do you mind if we just listen to some music and talk about something else?”

“Yeah! Yeah, of course, definitely.” 

Entering Steve’s room, he already has something playing on the player, something smooth and jazzy. Bucky didn’t mind it. His desk is set up for work: a laptop and an extra screen that had Photoshop open. He took a seat on Steve’s bed, rather bouncy. Steve wandered over to this desk, saving whatever he was working on and sat down in his desk chair. 

“What is this?” Bucky asked, pointing to the record player.

“Miles Davis,  _ Kind of Blue _ .” He said. “I call it my work music.”

Bucky half smiled, “Sounds like we’re in the lobby of some fancy hotel.” 

“Well, you’re not wrong.”

Bucky, without permission, made himself comfortable up against the headboard of Steve’s bed and stretched out his legs. Steve didn’t really seem to mind much as he was rifling through his collection of records, pulling out something different to put on for them.

Steve swapped out Miles for Queen. Queen was an easy listen, always something to hum or sing along to and truthfully, did anyone really dislike Queen? Bucky scratched the side of his head, dragging over some of his hair away from his face. The apartment seemed quiet meaning Sam wasn’t here. Bucky had a few guesses but that wasn’t the point of why he was here. 

Bucky and Steve were so polar opposites. Steve seemed to have his life together, he had a career going, one that he seemed passionate about. Bucky asked him about his project up on the screen and Steve jumped right into it. It was for a startup company looking to open up a juice bar. It wasn’t overly thrilling to Bucky but Steve had a sparkle in his eye about it.

His Thai food arrived and they ended up splitting it. They sat on the bed together, diving into the food as if they hadn’t eaten all day and sipped back the lagers. Once you got Steve going he was quite the chatterbox, speaking to whatever popped into the mind. Bucky more so loved listening. 

“I really can’t picture it.”

Bucky dug out his wallet from his pocket and thumbed through a few cards until he got his license. “See for yourself.”

What Steve didn't believe was Bucky with short hair. Something in his mind couldn’t draw it up, so photo identification was needed. “You look good with short hair.” Steve said. 

“So you’re saying I look bad with long hair?”

“No!” Steve was on the defense. “ _ No. _ You look different but both are good.” Bucky had his heated around the collar, cheeks a brush of pink. He held onto the plastic card a little longer. “James.”

Bucky hummed, finishing off the noodles in one of the take out containers. 

“You don’t like it?”

“I don’t hate it,” he mumbled. “There’s maybe three people that ever call me by my legal first name.”

“But you prefer Bucky.” Steve handed back the card, cleaning up the empty containers. “Yeah, Bucky suits you more.”

Bucky half smiled. “Thanks for the seal of approval.” 

They ran through lists: Top 5 movies, Top 5 genre specific movies, Top 5 Best Trash Movies (that one spark a food ten minute debate as to whether or not The Wicker Man was a good-bad movie).

“But it’s  _ funny _ .” Bucky insisted. 

“It’s supposed to be about a  _ cult! _ ” Steve was feverishly shaking his head, exasperated.

Bucky was fully sure, but he was pretty certain Steve was disappointed in his movie choices and he couldn’t help but snicker. Steve was a bit pouty about it, crinkling his nose in this way that Bucky thought was possibly slightly adorable.

Queen ended and Steve flipped over to Fleetwood Mac, Rumours. At this point, Bucky was fully lounged out on Steve’s bed taking up more room then what was appropriate. Steve sat back down at the end of the bed.

“You know that song  _ I Think We’re Alone Now  _ by Tiffany?” Bucky asked, tilting his head to look at Steve.

“Yeah.”

Bucky pursed his lips together for a moment. “That’s the one. The guilty pleasure song.”

Steve’s eyes widened to the size of golf balls. “What? One hit wonder Tiffany!” He scrambled to his feet, sliding into his desk chair and clacked away at the keyboard until he brought up the song via Youtube. “This… this is your guilty pleasure song?!”

“Don’t make me regret you telling that, Stevie.”

The guy was shook, bewildered. And, more rudely, he was laughing at Bucky. Laughing! The nerve! “I can’t believe it. I would have never guessed in a million years. This is fantastic.”

“I’m regretting it.”

“No, Buck—“ but Steve was still laughing trying his best to subside it. He stopped the song playing. “It’s just… really fucking funny.”

“I’ve already made a mental note never to tell you another secret again.”

Bucky played up a pout just to jab at Steve a little bit. “I promise it’s safe with me, not a soul shall know.” 

“How kind of you. Really, so honourable.” Bucky quipped. Steve threw Bucky’s jacket at him that he had shrugged off on the floor earlier. “Is this you kicking me out?”

Steve shook his head, his eyes flickering to his phone on his desk for a moment as it lit up with a text message. Bucky sat himself up, watching Steve as he typed back a message and hit send. 

“Sam’s on his way back, though. I don’t know if you wanna stay or not…”

Ah, right. Bucky nearly forgot for a couple hours of his life that his two friends were dating behind his back. A couple of good hours that he perhaps wished would last a few more. 

“I think I’ll go.” He said not fully ready. He stood and sorted out Steve’s messed up blankets and shrugged on his jacket. 

Steve walked him to the door, standing up against the wall while Bucky tugged on his boots. This was another strange feeling, a feeling of not wanting to go. Maybe he could say fuck it, ignore Sam and then him and Steve could finish listening to Stevie Nicks.

“Hey, thanks.” Bucky’s tone was soft. Steve looked perplexed. “You didn’t have to be nice to me.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong, Buck.”

Bucky breathed out through his nose. “Yeah, well, most times when people meet me, they wish they never did.”

Steve conjured one of the more softer smiles Bucky had seen. Steve had Bucky’s gaze caught and something in his chest rattled in an not unpleasant way. “You’re too hard on yourself. Maybe it’s just me but this was probably my best night here so far. So thank you.”

That was nice, too nice, and Bucky was unsure of what to do. Steve had this stupid perfect way of saying the right thing. There was no reply warranted, he thought. Both of them were grateful for something tonight. Bucky lingered for another moment simply so he could just have  _ another moment. _

“Night, Steve.”

“Goodnight, Buck. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”


	4. Chapter 4

This was quite the predicament. 

Steve was in, well to put it simply, stuck between a rock and a hard place. Perhaps it was a bit silly that Steve had been pacing across his ten foot room for the entire hour after Bucky left because he honestly couldn’t stop thinking about him. Or the fact that he tossed and turned all night because maybe there was some little crush blooming in his chest and Steve really didn’t know what to do about it.

Having a crush felt childish, even thinking of the word crush had Steve thinking the entire definition of it foolish. It was rather elementary, wasn’t it?

**Crush**  
_Verb_ _  
_ _brief but intense infatuation for someone, especially someone unattainable or inappropriate._

Perhaps it wasn’t as bad as Steve was making it out to be in his mind. Having a crush was okay, it happened all the time with people, it was human nature. Person A sees Person B in a bar and they become utterly obsessed with one another, expressing their love and affection and they live happily ever after. If it were that easy, Steve probably would have been married to a guy named Matteo he had met stupidly drunk one night at a bar in Santa Monica. That would have turned out absolutely horrible.

Anyway.

Steve’s morning jog took him on a different route then normal, a different path through Prospect Park and exiting through a different entrance. He slowed his pace at the end of the path, lungs heavy and he knew his cheeks and rose here pink from the morning’s cool weather. Bucky had been a little MIA, Steve noticed. He wasn’t much on the balcony nor did he see him pop into Xander’s as much. He really couldn’t hold it against Bucky; if he was still dealing with Natasha and Sam that was at his own expense and hopefully they all could figure it out. 

Checking his phone, it was half past nine. Breakfast was in order. His typical coffee shop was only a five minute loner of a walk and he headed in that direction. The bell rang as he walked into the quaint shop that he loved, the smell of roasting coffee beans creating a heavenly aroma. Today it would be a medium coffee and an everything bagel with cream cheese. 

“Morning, Steve.”

“Hi Patricia,” Steve greeted the ponytailed hair girl behind the counter. 

He waited in the line to order, attempting to warm up his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. He couldn’t wait to have coffee. 

The bell for the door rang a few more times and people entered and exited the small establishment. He slipped out his phone, scrolling mindlessly through the morning news. 

“What do you think: Cheddar Jalapeno or Marble Rye?”

Steve was taken aback but the too close voice only to realize that he knew the voice, that he liked the voice. A quick glance to his right had Bucky hovering beside him, his eyes reading the large menu board hanging up on the wall behind the cash register. 

“Cheddar Jalapeno.” Steve replied, tucking his phone away.

“Yeah, I think I’ll go with that one.”

A small smile tugged at Steve’s lips as he took in Bucky. He looked dressed for more warmth: jeans, his typical boots, but he donned a hoodie and had a sherpa jean jacket on (how many jean jackets did one person own?) and a new addition, a grey beanie. Bucky looked well rested, his eyes a brighter blue. 

“How’ve you been?” Steve asked, shuffling forward in line. “I haven’t seen you around much.”

“What, you miss me or somethin’, Stevie?” Bucky was teasing, he knew that, but yeah. He did sort of miss Bucky. “I’ve been working on that Camaro I told you about.”

“Yeah? How’s that coming along?”

“Good, actually.”

They moved up again, Patricia was smiling at them. “What can I get you this morning?”

“Cheddar Jalapeno with cream cheese and a large coffee. And I’ll pay for whatever Steve wants, Patricia.” Bucky dug for his wallet in his pocket, pulling out a twenty. “Order, Steve.”

Well, if he insisted. Steve proceeded to order his bagel and coffee and let Bucky pay for the both of them. They scooted off to the side to let the other customers in line place their orders. It was pretty squishy. Steve’s arm brushed up against Bucky more than was probably appropriate, however, the other didn’t seem to even notice nor care. Bucky got distracted by his phone for a moment, using his thumbs to tap against the screen. 

“You usually run in the afternoons.”

Steve blinked. “I… Sometimes.”

Bucky looked to Steve, a crooked smile. “You ran by the shop the other day, I don’t know if you noticed.”

He didn’t, honestly. He had tunnel vision when he ran, a one track mind with his feet hitting the pavement in a rhythmic pace. In the back of his mind there’s a vague memory of passing by an auto shop but he couldn’t be certain of what it said. 

“I didn’t notice.” Steve admitted. “I would have stopped by and said hello.”

“Here you go, fellas.” Patricia handed out their coffees and bagels to them. “Have a good Thursday!”

“Thanks, Patricia,” Bucky nodded to her, shuffling his way out of the now busy store. Steve followed behind him, walking back out to the brisk autumn air. At least it was sunny. “Are you heading home?”

“I was planning on making my way there eventually.”

“I’m headed this way if you wanted to go for a stroll.”

Steve accepted the invitation. They both opened their coffees and sipped on the warm caffeine, digging into their bagels as Bucky led. Steve was more than content with following him along. It was that small talk that kept them engaged during their adventure. Bucky led them to the auto shop which was no more than a ten minute walk away. Yes, Steve remembered, he had ran on this street before. The shop was just off a main road on one of the side streets that were decorated with orange, yellow and red leaves of the big trees and tiny wartime homes. 

“Did you want to come in for a few? Finish your breakfast?”

Steve felt like he was spinning. Bumping into Bucky was one thing, their walk was another, but now it was a few more minutes he could spend and he wasn’t going to reject the offer. Bucky unlocked the side door of the old brick building, yanking open the metal door and walked inside. He flipped on a few overhead lights. It was a bit of a maze in the garage area. Two cars were hoisted up on the lifts while another was covered with a large cloth. 

“I’ll be back in a sec, find a chair and hang out.” Bucky set his things down on a back counter and disappeared through another door. 

Steve followed orders, dusting off a swivel chair and sat down making sure he wasn’t touching anything. He bit into his bagel, eyes darting around the echo-y garage. A few more lights turned on and the hum of a radio started. There was some shuffling from the other side of the door and Steve swore he heard two different voices. 

Bucky returned a minute later sans outerwear and his hair pulled back into one of those messy buns he pulled off too well. He had a shadow following him.

“God, sometimes you’re so  _ infuriating! _ ”

Bucky was laughing, a sneaky laugh that had Steve arch a brow. “Sorry,” Bucky said to Steve. “Found a squatter.”

“Ha, you’re so funny.” The girl behind him approached view, her eyes rolling big and her head staking. She popped out behind Bucky. “I’m not a squatter, I was waiting for dad but I got you instead. Oh-- Hi.”

“Becca, Steve. Steve, my sister Becca.” 

“Hi Steve, nice to meet you.” Becca had a bright, big smile and sparkly blue eyes. She had her hand extended out and he politely took it, shaking their hands. They were definitely siblings, the resemblances between the two were uncanny. “Under what terrible circumstances are you friends with my brother?”

Steve laughed softly. “I live in the building across the way. I’m roommates with Sam.”

“Oh! Oh…” Becca’s quick mood change had her looking from Steve to Bucky in a split second. Bucky waved her off. She must have known what happened. “Well… Sorry you have to be friends with my brother. He’s a handful.” She brought it back around easily. 

“He’s not that bad.”

Becca hummed. “I guess you didn’t have to live with him for twenty years. That was a tragedy.”

“Bec, don’t you have class or anywhere else to be?” Bucky called from the covered car. 

Steve looked at the sweater Becca was wearing seeing the purple NYU logo printed across in large font. “What are you studying?”

“I’m finishing up my degree in Sociology. Then I plan to get my PhD.” Becca told him with a confident grin. She must have been a hard worker, Steve thought. “What do you do, Steve?”

“I’m a graphic designer.”

“Cool. Designed anything I’ve seen?”

She was now sitting beside him in her own chair, spinning around. “Hmm,” he hummed. “A few Christmases ago, the company I used to work for had an advertisement up in Times Square. It was one with a polar bear and penguin exchanging chocolates for the holidays.”

“I know that one! Bucky-- You remember that one? Ma liked that one when we went and saw The Nutcracker.” 

“Yeah, I remember.” Bucky murmured, distracted by his phone and coffee. 

Outside, a car pulled up with the door opening and closing. “I bet that’s dad.” Becca hopped off the chair and dazzling herself away, spinning around her brother just to spite him in annoyance. 

“She talks a lot, sorry.”

Steve smiled. “That’s okay.”

Bucky gripped the cloth and dragged it off the 1970 black Camaro he had been working on. Steve made himself over to the car absolutely fascinated by it. It looked good for not having a shotty engine. The leather of the seats was maintained well enough.

“There’s a few scuffs at the back, but nothing I can’t buff out. Besides the fucked up engine, it’s in good shape.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Steve replied. He wasn’t a hardcore car guy but he could appreciate American muscle cars. He stood back up, resting his arms up on the top of the car. “So… you like The Nutcracker? Ballet?”

A groan came from Bucky’s chest. “I  _ saw _ the ballet. It was a gift we got our mom for Christmas.”

Steve was beaming. “Alright, whatever you say.”

Bucky bumped Steve along his way to the bench to retrieve his coffee. Steve had to force himself to keep upright. He retook his seat in the swivel car and for a while observed Bucky working on the car, passing him tools or his coffee when needed. Other mechanics walked into their shift not seeming to pay much attention to Steve nor ask why he was there. That was probably for the better anyway. He didn’t mean to stare at Bucky the whole time but it was rather difficult not to given the circumstance. Bucky was in his element, he was so fluid and looked genuinely content with himself all while mindlessly chatting with Steve.It was quite amazing, Steve thought, and easily he could have just sat there for the entire day watching him. 

“I should go,” Steve pushed past the disappointment he had. “Shower, catch up on some emails.”

He removed himself from under the car hood and nodded, swiping a rag off the bench to lazily clean his hands. “Right,” Bucky nodded. 

Bucky walked Steve to the side door which was more than was Steve needed. “I still get shotgun, right?” He asked before leaving. 

Bucky tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. Steve got him to smile just a little. “As far as I’m considered, you’re the only one on the list.”

Something flipped in Steve’s stomach and a grin broke through, a soft chuckle as well. “Good to hear.” They parted ways with Steve reluctantly trailing his way home. 

He was in trouble.

***

The apartment was quiet. Sam was off to a convention for the weekend leaving the apartment to Steve’s lonesome. He didn’t mind for the most part; he got a lot of work done and did some minor tidying and laundry to get out of the way. He hummed along to his records, sweeping the kitchen and making an exquisite dinner of frozen pizza. His week had been steady. Him and Bucky had been texting but Steve didn’t want to push his luck with it because, well, he had a crush and his crush was a guy whom Steve never would normally think twice about. That’s what made it difficult for him to come to terms with.

_ I, Steve Rogers, do have a crush on one Bucky Barnes. _

That was absolutely insane.

Saturday was dragging. The only conversation him and Bucky had was about breakfast and how Clint burnt pancakes. Sam was busy with his meetings and mingles that there wasn’t even a point to text him asking how his day was going. 

Steve spun around in his desk chair holding a nearly empty beer in his one hand and his phone in his other. He had his conversation with Bucky open, typing every few minutes only to delete it a second later. Was it bad that he wanted to see him? Was it bad that he wanted Bucky back here in his room while they listened to the Stones or Nirvana (god, even ABBA)? He missed Bucky, everything about him.

**_Hey… What are you up to tonight?_ **

No.

**_Hey! I got too much take out…_ **

Liar.

**_Hey, I’ve got a dumb crush on you. Funny, right?_ **

Pathetic. 

Steve drained what was left in his can and grabbed the jacket off the back of his door to leave. Outside was brisk with the sun having set over an hour ago and the winter winds were beginning to sweep into the city. His feet took him to Xander’s the only realistic place to travel to on a Saturday night to get out of the apartment. Walking inside, it was buzzing as normal. Steve found himself a seat at the bar, shrugging off his jacket. 

“Hey Steve,” Clint greeted brightly. “Beer?”

“Hey Clint, yeah, thanks.”

Clint popped off the bottle cap and placed the beer in front of Steve with a bent coaster. He set his phone down on the bar top still having the empty text box open in an unwritten text to Bucky. Steve wasn’t even sure if liquid courage could help him at this point. He felt like a five year old kid too shy to even talk. 

Into his third beer, Steve began to feel a little more brave. He opened the conversation, tapping away on the keyboard. A few misspelled words had Steve constantly going back to perfect his wording. Maybe drinking alone at home and a bar was not the best idea in the world. 

**_Hey, I don’t know if you’re busy but I’m at Xander’s and it’s boring with no one here._ **

Well, that was good enough.

Steve intently stared at his phone, impatiently waiting. Three bubbles popped up and Steve was reeling for the response. 

_ Drinking by yourself is not fun? _

**_No, it sucks. What are you doing?_ **

_ Playing pool and watching you drink by yourself. _

Oh.

Steve turned his body seeing Bucky, low and behold, sitting on the edge of a stool by the pool tables. He hadn’t even thought about that and yet it was the most obvious. Bucky slid off the stool and took his beer, walking towards the bar and Steve. 

“You knew I was here?”

“Only recently,” Bucky replied, leaning against the bar. “I was actually going to ask if you wanted to come out but I wasn’t sure if you had plans.”

“Sam’s away.”

Bucky nodded, taking a sip of his beer. Steve analyzed his nonchalant posture, the typical jean jacket and his dark jeans, t-shirt underneath. He made simple look so good and it wasn’t fair whatsoever. “Did I take you away from your game?”

“Wasn’t playing,” he replied. 

“Right.” Steve couldn’t find more eloquent words at this point. His mind was a mixture of alcohol and too many feelings to understand. “Buck? Do you wanna go?” He asked, quickly following it up with: “Kind of loud in here.”

Bucky nodded, setting his nearly empty bottle down and moving to go. Steve shrugged back on his jacket and weaved his way out of the bar. No less than thirty feet away from the bar, Steve stopped mid walk, pulling Bucky to stop with him. He was too sure what he was doing, but it was something. 

“Steve… You’re not gonna puke or somethin’…”

Steve blinked. “What. No,” he shook his head, grip still on the sleeve of Bucky’s jacket. “I have to tell you something.” 

“Okay…” Bucky said slowly, eying the hand on his arm cautiously. 

It was like Steve’s brain had shut down temporarily. Nothing was computing in the proper manner and he knew he was going to fuck this up one way or another. What could it hurt? Besides his pride, his emotions, and everything in between. 

Steve loosened his grip on Bucky’s sleeve and twisted his hand so that his and Bucky’s fingers were lacing together. He closed the gap between them and within the next second, Steve had his lips pressed to the corner of Bucky’s mouth in a near miss kiss. It was so brief but to Steve it felt so right as his lips moved and found the entirety of Bucky’s. His heart was beating so loud that he swore the entire block could hear it thumping in his chest. The kiss broke; Steve felt his whole body heat despite the chilly temperature out. 

He couldn’t get a read on Bucky, truthfully, he couldn’t even meet Bucky’s eye because he was shaking too much and feared the rejection. But Bucky was still holding his hand, their gap was still close. 

“Out of all the places to kiss me, you kissed me in the fucking subarctic?”

Steve’s eyes darted to Bucky, blinking in confusion but also relief. Bucky sure knew how to be real romantic. A slow smile pulled at Bucky’s lips causing Steve’s stomach to flip again. Oh this was trouble, a good trouble.

The warmth of the heat in the apartment had Steve defrosting from the outside chill. A trail of boots, coats, sweater and a shirt created a trail to Steve’s bedroom. Bucky’s lips were softer than Steve could have ever imagined. Everything about him was intoxicating, pulling Steve deeper and deeper into another world where no one else existed but them and this moment. He didn’t even believe this moment was actually happening. 

His back hit the cushion of his pillows, compressing into the mattress with his fingers gripping at Bucky’s t-shirt to tug it over his head. It found its way to the floor. He explored every inch of Bucky’s upper half, feeling the definition in his arms and the dips of his chest and hips. He was perfect, really, too perfect. Steve broke them apart to find a second to breathe. Bucky was so close, noses brushing close and Steve held onto the gaze for a moment or two. 

“We don’t…”

“Only if you want to.”

“I do.”

Their hands found their way in the dark. The bedsheets glided below and between their bodies. Steve felt electric and each kiss he shared with Steve felt like he was being recharged. He felt dizzy in the best way possible, soaking in everything as he held onto Bucky and explored his skin. His fingers got lost in his hair, keeping him as close as humanly possible. 

They were tangled with the sheet. The moonlight shone in through the slit of the curtains having the room be softly lit. Steve laid on his back, one arm under his head and his other arm tucked under Bucky’s arm as he rested on his side. Bucky’s eyes were shut, his breathing soft. His hair was splayed casting a shadow over his face. Gently, Steve twisted his body and brushed the few pieces of hair away from the other’s face. He was peaceful. Steve sunk himself into the mattress, stretching to get comfy enough and closed his eyes. 

If this was his only moment, then he’d keep this moment forever. 


	5. Chapter 5

Bucky was never the one to stay the night.

Staying the night meant that there’d be messy consequences in the morning, staying the night meant that there’d be some sort of attachment. Staying the night implied too many variables for Bucky to firstly, comprehend, and secondly that he wanted more than he put out. Staying the night… Is exactly what Bucky said he wouldn’t do but he did. 

He was slow to wake feeling the unfamiliar mattress cradling his body in the most comfortable way. His limbs were tangled in the thin sheet and truly, he couldn’t find a reason to move because he was far too snug to want to move. The tone was soft but he could hear his phone play out the ringtone to an incoming call. God, he really didn’t want to move because he swore that the second time it had rung within the last five minutes. Slowly Bucky peeled his eyes open to reveal a room that was definitely not his, he knew where he was. There beside him laying in a slumber on his stomach was Steve resting peacefully.

The sun from the window streamed in a warm yellow casting a ray along Steve’s back and shoulders highlighting his physic. Bucky let out a slow and low breath almost wanting to reach out and touch his skin. His phone-- it was going off again. He turned and delicately got himself off the bed, haphazardly pulled on his jeans and dug the phone out of his pocket.

“Hello?” 

He slipped out of the bedroom breezily, closing the door most of the way not to disturb Steve’s sleep.

“Well, you’re not dead.” Came the other voice on the line. 

“Why would I be dead?”

“Clint’s been texting me for the last hour saying you’re not at home. So, his initial reaction was that you were dead.”   


Bucky rubbed his eyes, finger combing his bed head out of his eyes. “I’m not dead, Natalia.”

“Clearly.”

A brief pad of silence filled the line. Bucky walked his way over to the sliding doors to the balcony, moving the blinds. Looking out, Natasha stood on her balcony wrapped up in an oversized hoodie with her short hair tucked back into a ponytail. “Where are you?” She asked.

“Look ahead.”

Natasha’s face contoured, confused. She glanced ahead, raising a brow in curiosity. Bucky leaned against the frame of the sliding doors, offering a lazily wave. “I suppose I’ll let Clint know that you’re in good health.”

“How kind of you.”

Natasha hummed, and Bucky could see the corner of her lip tug upward. “Put on a shirt, we’ll talk later.”

The call ended before Bucky could respond and Natasha retreated back indoors. He pocketed his phone and along the way back to the bedroom picked up his shirt, Steve’s sweater and the jackets off the floor. He opened the door slightly seeing Steve in the same stomach down position as from when he left. This was the issue, this is why you never stayed the night because sometimes Bucky was the one to maybe feel a little bit of attachment. 

He really didn’t know what he was doing, part of him hoped for the best as he did last night. If he was being honest with himself, Steve kissing him had caught him off guard but he didn’t resent it, nor did it change anything… or did it? They kissed, kissed again and it wasn’t sex but it was better than some things Bucky had experienced before. It was intimate, not just drunk nonsense that was all fun and games. 

“Are you sneaking out?”

Steve’s voice was muffled by the pillow, low and crackly. “No,” Bucky blinked, because he wasn’t but his compromising situation of him standing at the bedroom door with clothes in his hand was debatable. “I had a phone call.”

He moved back into the room, placing the clothes on the desk chair. Steve rolled himself over with a yawn, brushing sleep out of his eyes. He was awake now and everything in Bucky wanted to crawl back into bed beside Steve but something in him wouldn’t move him forward. 

“Clint thinks I’m dead because I’m not at home.”

Steve gave an (adorable) puzzled face, looking at his own phone for the time: 9:24am. 

“Yeah,” Bucky laughed softly. “He’s dramatic.”

He didn’t know if this was making it awkward or not. Steve seemed to be okay but everything in Bucky’s body was telling him to abort and go home, but a small yet strong part of him wanted to stay for a long while. He watched as Steve pulled a pair of sweatpants from the nearby hamper and pulled it on as he sat up in bed. His blonde hair was a little spikey from the way he slept. Bucky leaned against the desk, gripping onto the edge with his palms. 

The cars outside passing by filled the silence between them. Bucky’s flight instant was really kicking in.

“Do you want breakfast?” Steve asked.

Bucky rubbed his lips together. He was starving, but… “I should probably go home so Clint doesn’t scold me.”

Steve didn’t reply, instead he got up and left the room to go to the bathroom. Bucky pulled his shirt over his head, messily tying up his hair and grabbed his jacket. By the time he had laced up his boots in the front area, Steve had come out of the bathroom looking a little more refreshed with brushed teeth and his hair only slightly more tamed. Bucky couldn’t read Steve’s face; he looked a little pissed off but maybe he was just tired? It was quite blasé. 

“Get home safe,” Steve half joked.

Perhaps Bucky had misread the room. He offered Steve a small smile all while something in his chest panged in an uncomfortable way. Steve unlocked the door and opened it up with Bucky stepping out into the hallway to go on his way. Four feet away from the door and Steve was already closing it. Bucky turned on his heel, retreating back to stop the door from closing. In one quick motion, Bucky pinned his lips to Steve’s in a departing kiss. It was brief, soft and felt haunting. It broke wordlessly, just as Bucky left without saying a word. 

Clint was sprawled out on the couch when Bucky let himself into the apartment. He approached the couch and with a pillow smacked Clint in the stomach, hard, causing him to groan. “I was worried!” Clint squeaked out. 

“Thanks, mom.” Bucky shut his bedroom door, falling onto his bed.

  
***  
  


It wasn’t like Bucky was purposely ignoring Steve. There were some things that needed to be sorted out and work had become a little more busy. Or, Bucky made work become a little more busy by overworking his allotted amount of hours. He didn’t know what he was doing, and he had proven that more than enough times in the past. He wasn’t good with the commitment which he even knew was the worst cop out. All he had to do was try and for some reason he couldn’t find it in himself to do that. 

The radio hummed lowly in the shop. Bucky was the last one there and it was nearing eight in the evening. He liked the solitary. A knock snapped him out of his lost thoughts, looking up to see Natasha standing in the doorway. She held two cups in her hand, walking towards him.

“What’s that?”

“A Peace offering, otherwise known as slushies from the bodega with a slash of rum.” She extended her arm out to him and he took the styrofoam cup, popping the straw in the lid. 

“This feels so juvenile.”

Natasha shrugged, finding a chair to sit in. “Still delicious.”

She wasn’t wrong. Bucky sipped the frozen drink, sitting down on the work stool. “I think it should have been my turn with the peace offering.”

“By the time you would have gotten over yourself we would have been seventy-five.”

“Ouch.” He said, but he laughed because that seemed to be far more accurate then he wanted to admit. He took another sip. He had kind of forgotten about the complications between him and Natasha; his mind was blocked with other uncertainties. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

“Correct.”

“I think I was more upset with myself,” he went on, eye contact very little. Bucky was ashamed, he truly was. “But why couldn’t you have just told me?”

Natasha shifted in her seat. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I didn’t really know how to go about it. I wanted to tell you.”

“I want you to be happy, Nat. And if that’s Sam for you… then that’s great.” Bucky told her. Sam was a good guy and Natasha deserved a person like Sam who could grow together. He wasn’t bitter at this point. The feelings simmered and it moved his way out. All he wanted was his friends back. 

“This is so sappy.” Natasha laughed. Bucky smiled. “Speaking of… Steve?”

“Yeah…” He rolled himself away, setting the drink down on the bench. He needed to busy himself.

Natasha urged on. “And?”

“Nothing? I don’t know, Nat. It’s not that easy.”

“It’s not that easy because you’re making it complicated for no reason,” she started. “He likes you, James. And I’m getting the feeling you like him too. There’s no sense in hiding how you feel.”

Bucky sighed. “I’m not good at this shit, you have that first hand experience. It’s better to let it go.”

“How is that fair to Steve? You haven’t talked to him in days, he’s our friend. If you don’t want anything then have the decency to tell him instead of avoiding him.”

She was telling him not to be a dick. Things were easier when there wasn’t an attachment. He was cursing himself. The day after waking up in his own bed felt off. Any warm body was nice but it wasn’t Steve’s that was next to him. It was hard to get him off his mind.

“Talk to me.”

Bucky set down the wrench in his hand, leaning forward against the hood of the car. “All I do is think about him which makes me not want to and then I find a way to fill the void. Because what’s the point of trying if I’ll fuck it up anyway?”

“You don’t know that you will.”

“Track record isn’t great.”

“I don’t think he cares about that. He likes you for you.”

That should be enough, shouldn’t it? The reservations in Bucky’s heart were too strong not to ignore. Maybe he was scared to go into something unknowingly with the fear that Bucky could screw something up, it only took a matter of time. Natasha got up from her spot and occupied the space next to Bucky.

“I want you to know that I don’t regret anything we had. There were hard times but so much of the good outweighs it. I wouldn’t ever want those memories to go anyway.” She gently touched his arm to get him to look at her. “So if that’s holding you back, just know that while we weren’t perfect, we loved each other. And you deserve some happiness yourself.” 

“I’m sorry.” He murmured.

“Me too.”

Natasha moved away, tucking some of her hair behind her ear with her arms crossing over her chest. “Do me a favour?”Bucky turned, tilting is his to the side. “Call Steve.”

If only it were that easy. 

Brooklyn was cold. The night came fast that Bucky nearly had forgotten what the sun felt like. Snow flurries dazzled through the air on his way home later that night. He had sat with himself, toying away at the car but it wasn’t anything significant. His apartment was warm as he came through the door. A few lights were on but Clint must have been working his shift at Xander’s for the night. Bucky shrugged off his coat and tossed his keys onto the kitchen table, dusting some snow out of his hair. 

He grabbed some bread and cheese slices to easily whip up some grilled cheese, sinking into the couch once it was done. A sad man’s dinner with a glass of orange juice. Bucky was truly rolling in the luxury. His phone was taunting him, resting on the coffee table eagerly luring in Bucky to man the fuck up and call Steve. Natasha would probably hound him the next day but he couldn’t bring himself to it. Another day passing, another blank message. He found comfort in falling asleep in the dark with the blue light of the TV making the room glow. Clint came home around three in the morning, knocking his foot at Bucky’s leg telling him to go to bed.

The next day came and went, followed by another.

Saturday morning Bucky was awake, showered and dressed by ten and out the door by quarter after ten. He hiked his way through some blowing snow to the bagel shop ordering two coffees and two bagel sandwiches to go. He felt a little lighter on his feet today, his head clearing. Admittedly he was nervous, hell, it had almost been a week since he had seen or spoken to Steve and that was unacceptable. He knew that, he had been a dick. Trekking back, Bucky let himself into the apartment building and made his way up four flights of stairs to the end of the hallway. 

Bucky brushed his knuckles against the door a few times, taking a small step back to wait and hopefully be let inside. The door opened quicker than he could comprehend. On the other side of the door stood Sam in his winter jacket and scarf getting prepared to take on the cold New York weather. 

“Hey man,” Sam greeted. 

“Hey Sam.” 

Sam shifted his weight. “Look I’m sorry--”

“Don’t be,” Bucky interjected. “You didn’t do anything wrong, I was being a dick. Said some things I shouldn’t have.”

Sam nodded. “Natasha and I are going to breakfast but it looks like you’ve already got your hands full.”

“Maybe some other time?” He suggested, truly meaning it. “Is Steve here?”

“As far as I’m aware, yeah, but his door’s been closed all morning.” Sam turned back to look into the home. He stepped out into the hallway, switching spots with Bucky. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

He’d sure as hell need it. 

His feet felt like cement as he approached Steve’s door. He knocked, waiting once again. There was movement on the other side; his desk chair being moved and the sound of bare feet on the parquet flooring. The knob jiggled, opening to Steve on the other side. Steve looked tired, his t-shirt a little wrinkly and his sweatpants hung nicely off his hips. 

“Breakfast?” The word stumbled out of Bucky’s mouth, offering up the cup of coffee and bagel sandwich. Steve took the paper cup and the wrapped sandwich. That was a decent sign. “They were out of everything so I got you a cheddar deluxe. Patricia recommended it.” 

Steve took his food and sat down on his desk. His monitors were on with another client project. Bucky stood awkwardly in the doorway. “You’re getting the floor wet.”

“Shit,” Bucky set down his own food and quickly removed his boots, putting them by the front  door. 

“You know what’s funny?” Steve’s question was rhetorical. “I knew that it was going to be a stupid idea to tell… show… you my feelings towards you. Should have listened to my gut.”

Bucky frowned. “Steve--”

“How do you spend the night and then leave the next morning kissing me only to disappear for a week?” Steve’s volume increased. Bucky let him go. “That’s fucking bullshit, Bucky.”

“I know.”

Steve continued, “But maybe that’s what I’m worth. With you… with my ex. What did I do wrong?”

Bucky shook his head. “Steve, you didn’t do anything wrong. Are you kidding? You’re not the one who fucked up and fucked off. I’m the one who’s wrong. I got scared.”

“Scared about what?”

Bucky looked around the room, shaking his head some more. “I don’t know. About actually having feelings for someone I guess. Because if you knew how much I fucked things up in the past then you would know that you don’t deserve any of this.”

Steve breathed in, pressing the palms of his hands to his eyes. “But how’s it fair that you’re deciding how I should feel?”

It wasn’t fair, Bucky agreed. Steve could feel any which way he wanted. “I don’t do this, Steve, this is one of the reasons why. Someone gets hurt.”

It felt like he was bullshitting Steve even more but that was the truth. He was scared and he knew somehow down the road that he'd end up hurting Steve in some way. “I think you should go.” Steve finally said. 

Bucky’s brows knitted together. “Steve I just--”

“Please? Can you go?”

There was no sense in arguing with him. Bucky didn’t need this to be a bigger disaster than it already was. Wordlessly he slipped back on his boots and showed himself out with Steve remaining in his room. Bucky felt he had gotten punched in his stomach. His entire body felt numb and his mind was going every which way. Steve wanted none of it and at this point he couldn’t blame him. Bucky was a coward. 

“So now what?”

Bucky shrugged his shoulders. He was sunk into the corner of Natasha’s couch, head tilted back with his eyes closed that evening. “I don’t know. I’m thinking he hates me.”

“I don’t think he hates you, he’s just royally pissed off.”

What was the difference at this point?

He ignored Steve for a week, and then his apology went sideways five seconds into setting into his home and everything in between was somewhat of a blur. The only thing Bucky knew was that the pit in his stomach was becoming more treacherous by the minute. This was probably why everyone ate ice cream dramatically in movies while sulking over a crush, it froze the pain. 

The front door clicked open and Peggy walked through with some take out. “When you mentioned there was a third person, I thought it was Sam.”

“It’s only your most favourite person, Carter.” Bucky mumbled.

There was quiet, Bucky’s eyes were still closed but he felt the couch moving with arm motion and poor whispers between Peggy and Natasha trying to communicate. Peggy set the paper bags down on the table, sorting through them and making up plates for the three of them. Bucky accepted the plate, digging into the food. The volume of the television filled in the void of the silence while they ate. Bucky wasn’t paying much attention to what was on the screen but it was funny content as Natasha laughed and Peggy had a smile while she ate. 

Bucky felt like he was stuck in limbo, on autopilot and sort of out of body. He set his half eaten dinner on the table, pushing it away. Peggy glanced over. 

“It’s not that good?”

“It was fine,” he replied. “I’ll give you some money.”

Peggy set her fork down on her plate. “Bucky, you need to try again, with Steve. Maybe it’s not my place to say this but you cannot give up after one attempt. You owe yourself and him another shot. He’s hurt so of course he’s going to be defensive. You and Natasha didn’t speak for a while after that whole--”

“Moving on.” Natasha prompted.

“My point is,” Peggy shifted in the chair. “Grow up, Bucky. Face your fears and actually apologize to him. Don’t give him excuses.” 

Peggy’s words stayed with Bucky the rest of the night. He tossed and turned, not finding much more then on and off sleep that night, too entangled in his thoughts. He needed to fix it, to man up and let go of his reservations. He needed to stop being his own worst enemy.

His body felt exhausted. Bucky dressed himself in the morning going over the different scenarios in this mind.

**Scenario #1:** Bucky apologies from the depths of his heart and Steve accepts his apology.   
**Scenario #2:** Bucky apologies from the depths of his heart yet Steve doesn’t want to see his face again.   
**Scenario #3:** Bucky fucks up, inevitably, and he has to move to middle of nowhere Idaho to have some semblance of a life. 

Perhaps the last scenario was a bit dramatic but it was still a top contender. 

“ _ Bucky, _ ” his name came sharp. Startled Bucky looked over to the doorway of his bedroom seeing Clint looking like a zombie with his eyes barely open. “Did you not hear the door?”

“Sorry Clint.” Bucky said, “I’ll get it.”

He could hear Clint grumble under his breath and shuffled back to his room. It did sound like he didn’t come home until the early morning, a stressful night at the bar. Bucky unlocked the door and opened it.  _ Steve _ .

Bucky felt his body warm up at the sight of Steve standing before him, yet confused and almost concerned. This felt all kinds of backwards. “Steve--”

“Let me go first,” Steve said. “The thing is that--”

“I like you,” Bucky interjected. “I like you and I know you’re pissed off with me, I needed to figure things out.” 

Steve looked taken aback, raising his hand to rub the back of his neck. This wasn’t how Bucky wanted it to go, he was going to go and make things right, well at least the opportunity was now and not never. Steve was silent for a few long moments. 

“Can you come inside? I don’t want Clint to bitch at me again.”

Steve walked in, and Bucky moved them to his room. It took a minute for Steve to adjust, glancing around the foreign room. Right, Steve had never been in here before. There wasn’t much to showcase anyway: a bed pushed up against the wall under the window, a dresser, a small desk, tiny nightstand, a couple of posters on the well, some clothes on the floor he really should have picked up…

“I didn’t even apologize last time,” Bucky picked up the conversation again. “I don’t know how to do this properly.”

Steve shrugged. “I don’t think there’s a proper way to go about dating someone, Buck. You just gotta try.” 

He was right, all you had to do was put in some effort. “Steve, I’m sorry.”

He nodded. “I know. Me too.”

“For what?”

“Arguments are a two way street and I told you to go yesterday because I got upset again. I just didn’t want to be rejected.”

“I wasn’t going to reject you… I was… I don’t know. This is different from anything else I’ve experienced,” Bucky explained. “God forbid that I want to be like whatever your dick ex-boyfriend was like.”

That brought a laugh in Steve, “You’re not, trust me.”

“Well that’s reassuring.” 

“I had this plan, it was kind of dumb in hindsight, but I was going to grab you a coffee and on the cup write out the lyrics to  _ Take a Chance on Me _ by ABBA until you forgave me.”

“As if.” Steve formed a small smile. 

“If you change your mind… I’m the first in line… I’m still free… Take a chance on me.” Bucky half sung. “I can keep going if you want.”

Steve shook his head and within a second closed the gap between him and Bucky. “You’re a terrible singer.” Steve murmured. There was no hesitation and their lips connected. Steve’s hand found place against Bucky’s cheek while Bucky gripped the fabric of Steve’s sweater to somehow pull him even closer than he was. 

Bucky grinned. “I know.”


	6. Chapter 6

“You’re abandoning me.”

“We’re not abandoning you, Clint.”

“Then what do you call all these boxes? Abandonment!”

Natasha set down a box on the kitchen table, hand on her hip. “I’m literally moving across the complex from you. I’d hardly call that abandonment.” 

Clint’s pout was resembling a five year old that wasn’t allowed dessert before dinner. “Yeah well Bucky’s moving to a whole other neighbourhood.”

“Clint, I’m going to be three subway stops away.” Bucky emerged from what was now technically his old bedroom. The snow came and went in the city, warm spring temperatures of early May gracing them with sun and clear skies. 

“Abandonment!”

Things with Steve were beyond what Bucky would have thought. It worked, they worked what almost seemed like effortlessly. Perhaps it was risky moving in with your boyfriend in a six month relationship but it felt right, and the loft apartment they found was more than perfect. Natasha was subbing in as Sam’s new roommate while Peggy decided to officially get her teaching degree. Nothing was ever normal in the complex.

“I guess if Steve ever gets mad at you again and kicks you out, I’ll still have your bed you can crash on.”

“Wow, Clint, I can’t believe how kind you are.” Bucky shoved Clint as he went back to the bedroom to collect another box. 

Natasha strolled into the room behind him, slipping her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “Who would have thought?”

Bucky turned back to look at her. “That we’d grow up? Not me.”

“Me too,” she smiled at him. “I like seeing you happy.”

“Is this the part where we hug and cry over nostalgia?”

Natasha smacked his arm with the back of her hand. “Play nice with me.” Bucky grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her into his chest for a long hug. Things were going to be different, but that was the point of growing up, things changed and people did too. Natasha slipped her arms around Bucky’s waist, taking the moment with him. 

“Speaking of nostalgia, I’m not sure how I feel about this.” Natasha reached up and poked the front of Bucky’s new and improved short hair.

“You used to say I should get a haircut.”

“But now I’m unsure. Maybe I miss it.” Natasha smiled. “Has Steve seen it?”

“Not yet.”

The last two boxes of Bucky’s room left the room vacant with a bed and the dresser and desk. It looked like a sad college dorm. Bucky stacked the boxes with the other ones by the front door as a message from Steve came in saying that his items were all packed into the truck they had rented. Clint, Natasha and Bucky brought down the boxes to the lobby of the building while Sam and Steve piled them into the back of the truck. 

“You have very little….” Steve’s voice trailed off as Bucky handed him a small box, blinking. “Where did your hair go?”

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not.”

“I’m confused.”

“I can tell.”

Steve extended his hand and combed his fingers through the hair, almost as if seeing isn't believing. “Wow.”

“It’ll grow back, Stevie.”

They packed up the rest of the boxes into the truck, closing the back. “I think that’s all.” Bucky did a sweep of his old bedroom and the living room. “Clint, you gonna be okay?”

Clint shrugged. “Yeah I guess. Don’t know what I’ll do by myself.”

“You’ll be alright.” Bucky assured him. 

Bucky jogged down the steps back out into the warm air. Steve was leaning against the drivers side of the truck, phone in hand as he was waiting. “Ready?”

“If you are,” Steve smiled as he glanced up. 

Bucky matched his smile, placing a quick kiss to the side of Steve’s mouth. “Let’s go.”

Unpacking seemed to be worse than packing. Bucky was exhausted an hour into hauling their bed and some boxes up and down from the truck to their new loft. Bucky had learned that Steve must have had some OCD tendencies as he kept rearranging the glasses and places in the kitchen cabinets ten times over. Bucky would evidently mess up his system in a week’s time. 

“Are you unpacking?” Steve called.   
  
“Yes…” Bucky mumbled, sprawled out onto the bed with his phone in hand. “Almost done.”

Steve’s feet padded on the hardwood, walking over to the half wall that had the bed behind it. “Liar.”

“I  _ was _ unpacking!” Bucky looked up at him. “Then I got bored and the bed was here.” 

“Mhmm,” Steve half smiled. “There should be one last kitchen box in the truck. Can you get that and then return the truck or is that too much work for you?”

Bucky scoffed. “I’m appalled. I take a two minute break and you question my work ethic.” He stretched out his hands to get Steve to help him up. Steve hooked their hands together only to have Bucky pull him down onto the bed. “You’re trapped.” Steve’s voice muffled against Bucky’s chest., Bucky smirked. “Don’t resist."

Steve shifted his body, curling up next to Bucky. “Do you think this was a good decision?”

“I do, do you?”

Steve nodded. “I like this place, I like you, so I guess it’s all working out.” 

It really was working out, Bucky agreed. Everything was changing into positivity. All Bucky needed was Steve, his friends and a roof over his head to feel more content than he had ever before. It was peaceful lying there with Steve, perfect if Bucky had to pick another word. He retrieved the last box once Steve reluctantly got out of bed to go back to his sorting. 

Their first night in their new home was nothing short of makeshift. Their dinner was on the floor of the living room, an indoor picnic as Steve called it followed by one or two celebratory drinks and one of Steve’s records playing as they fell into bed.

Bucky was the first to wake with sun rays pouring in through the tall windows casting light against the brick wall and the floor. Steve looked too comfortable to move, sleeping soundlessly with all the blankets. Steve was a professional blanket hogger. Bucky showered and changed, starting his morning fresh. 

“You left,” Steve mumbled.

“Clint texted me, says I forgot something at the apartment. I’ll be back.”

“Bring breakfast.” Steve rolled away from him, easily falling back to sleep.

Bucky slipped out of the loft and headed towards the nearest subway, backtracking his way towards the complex. His feet took him to their own bagel shop. 

“Morning, Patricia.”

“Hi Bucky, what can I get you?”

“The usual for Steve and I.”

He paid and left within ten minutes, making his way to his father’s auto shop. The text from Clint might have totally been fabricated. Bucky had finally completed his side project of the Camaro. It ran smoothly almost as if it were a brand new car off a lot. He was quite proud of himself. The engine started up with a roar and Bucky backed out of the garage and took the car for its first real adventure outside of the block. It drove like a dream.

“Are you awake?”

“I just got out of the shower.” Steve replied on the phone. 

“You’re going to have to come down, I can’t carry this box by myself.”

“I’m not dressed.”

“Personally, I wouldn’t mind the exposure but I don’t think our neighbours would want to see a show this early on a Sunday morning.”

He could sense Steve was flustered. “Give me a minute okay?”

“Sure, Stevie.”

Bucky sat idle outside of the building, drumming his fingers against the slick steering wheel. He hummed along to an old song on the radio, windows down with a warm spring breeze. The doors opened to the building and Steve jogged down the steps, slowly his motions as he hit the sidewalk.

“Buck…?” Steve’s eyes examined the entire car front to back and back to front. “You finished it!”

“I told this guy once that when this was fixed up, if he was lucky enough he could ride shotgun.”

Steve approached the car, resting his arm on the top as he bent down to look inside. “Do I know him?”

“Maybe. He’s kind of perfect.”

Steve shook his head, opening the passenger’s door and slipped into the leather seat. Bucky handed Steve his morning coffee and his breakfast. 

“This is almost romantic.”

“Almost? Steve, I am here whisking you away in something I built with my blood, sweat and tears. That’s a classic Disney plot. I brought you  _ food _ !”

“I know, and I love you for it.” Steve beamed. “Truly a prince.”

Bucky rolled his eyes playfully. “Where to?” He asked, putting the car in drive.

“Maybe a trip around the complex?” Steve reached out, lacing their fingers together. “Feeling a bit nostalgic today.” 

  
***  
  


If someone would have told Steve that his life would turn for the better within a year, he wouldn’t have believed you. His recent boyfriend had broken his heart with another man and brushed Steve off as if it wasn’t that serious. His job was slowly eating away at him and he knew he didn’t belong in the LA scene. Moving to New York and starting over had been more than promising to him; reuniting with Sam and meeting new friends… meeting Bucky. 

It was all a bit surreal to Steve. He was in a new place with Bucky, a home they could share and call their own. It worked out well; Steve had set up a mini office for himself under one of the large windows with a brand new desk and chair. Working was much of the same, Bucky would head off to the auto shop in the morning and come home in the early evening. Steve sat in the comfort of his home feeling more productive in a new space. They settled in quite nicely in the loft. A new couch had come in along with a kitchen table so they were no longer eating on the floor at the coffee table. 

Steve liked making dinner, exploring all the options he could get Bucky to taste test. It was so domestic but Steve loved it. He loved waking up next to Bucky, falling asleep with him and being too lazy to get out of bed on a Sunday morning. He loved a lot of things.

Stretched out on the couch, Bucky had his head resting in Steve’s lap. Their dinner dishes piled up in the sink but Steve couldn’t be bothered to inch away from the couch (and Bucky was basically on top of him). A rerun of _ Friends  _ played on the TV, Steve snickering to himself here and there about Joey’s antics. Steve glanced down once a commercial came on seeing Bucky looking calm and dozy. 

“Are you sleeping?” Steve brushed his thumb along Bucky’s cheek. 

Bucky opened his eyes, shifting. “M’no.” He mumbled. Steve smiled to himself. 

“You sure?”

“Mhmm.” Bucky stretched out his curled up legs, twisting himself so he was looking up at Steve. “Resting my eyes.”

“Sure, Buck.”

“I should get up and do the dishes.”

“Later,” Bucky told him. “We’re comfy.”

“We or you?”

“We.”

They finished the episode of Friends in their lounging position. Bucky eventually got pulled himself up into a sitting position, combing his fingers through his short hair. That had taken some time to get used to for Steve, but he loved it all the same. Steve watched him get off the couch.

“Where are you going?”

“To do the dishes.”

Steve got to his feet and followed after Bucky. He’d wash, Bucky would dry. It was a good system they had until someone, usually Steve ended up getting soaked because someone (Bucky) had childish tendencies.

“Bucky--  _ don’t _ ! My shirt is already wet.”

“It’s just a little water, Stevie.” Bucky had that teasing tone that drove Steve crazy in more ways than one. Almost making him flustered. He dodged Bucky’s wet hands, almost knocking himself into one of the open cabinets. That had Bucky laughing. “Steve.”

“I don’t trust you,” Steve was laughing though. 

They stood six feet apart: Steve’s shirt was half wet and Bucky had a too mischievous smile on his face that was equally terrifying and somehow alluring. 

“Steve,” Bucky beckoned again. “Come here.”

Steve was hesitant, eying his boyfriend suspiciously before taking small and cautious steps towards him. Before Steve could think, Bucky had a cup filled with soapy water splattering against Steve’s front side drenching him. Steve deserved it, Steve was an idiot for falling for Bucky’s sweetness. It happened every damn time. The cup dropped back into the sink as Bucky made a run for it, climbing over a dining chair to escape. Steve was after him in a slip second. There weren't many places to hide in a loft anyway. 

Reaching out, Steve caught the fabric of Bucky’s shirt and yanked him back with the two of them falling onto the extra large rug in the living room. Steve had Bucky pinned pretty good beneath him. 

“You get caught every time!”

“Yeah, maybe I let you catch me.” Bucky beamed up at Steve. 

Steve shook his head. “I love you but sometimes you’re so dumb.”

Bucky arched a brow. “You what?”

“I said,” Steve started again. “I love you but--” He stopped, blinking down at Bucky as his own words finally registered in his head. He just said three words sometimes people took years to say and Steve said it twice without even thinking. “I said…”

“I love you too.”

“No.”   
  
“Yes.”

Steve’s chest warmed, a shy smile tugging at his lips. He leaned down, connecting their lips in a slightly soapy flavoured kiss that had Bucky snickering. “Do you mean it?” Steve whispered. 

“Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! :)

**Author's Note:**

> comment/kudos?  
> find me on tumblr: jamesbvck


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